


The King Will Rule the Country (But You Will Rule the King)

by anellena



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Derek Hale & Scott McCall are Related, King Derek Hale, M/M, Middle Eastern-ish, Minor Derek Hale/Jennifer Blake - Freeform, Mpreg, Slave Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anellena/pseuds/anellena
Summary: Stiles was an obedient, quiet slave, because that is what you do when you want to survive. But here, in the harem, being quiet is the opposite of being safe. If you want to be successful- you have toshine.He will fucking shine.~*~ORHow slave became a king





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus Christ, here we go
> 
> Hello everyone! Just want to say a couple of things before we get started:
> 
> 1) The fic is based on Turkish TV-series called 'Magnificent century', which itself is based on the rule of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. I took bits and pieces from the show because it's dramatic AF. 
> 
> Anyway, my main point is THE FIC IS NOT HISTORICAL, the Hale Kingdom is a mix of everything. IT'S JUST MY IMAGINATION K
> 
> 2) I worked on this fic for 2 years, put a hell lot of time and love into it. I hope you will enjoy it too~

The Capital of Lupus is really quite beautiful, Stiles has to admit.

It’s sunny and warm, with a lot of trees everywhere, which makes the city look bright and green. The breeze from the ocean cools the hot summer air.

If Stiles was a traveler, he would've loved the Capital, with its giant white palace in the distance. He would have thought the city looked gorgeous and that it looked like a nice, safe place to live in, raise a family and work. If Stiles was a traveler, or a sailor, or a merchant, he would’ve thought that Capital of Lupus looked perfect.

However, Stiles is a slave and he hates the Capital as much as he hates the ocean. He hates Lupus, he hates that enormous white fucking palace, he hates the ordinary people that look so happy and busy with their lives, while he is up for sale like a dog.

It's the fifth day of the slave auction and with each passing day Stiles hates the Capital more and more. Thank God he knows Lupe language, enough to understand what is said to him and what is going on.

On the fifth day, Stiles catches someone looking at him. At first, Stiles thinks that he is mistaken, but after some time, the person stands right in front of him. It's a tall black man, with no hair, dressed in all white from head to toe.

"Can you understand me?" he asks.

"Yes, sire." Stiles answers, but doesn't look the man in the eye. It's forbidden in every culture, a universal thing: you don't look free people in the eye.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty, sire."

At least that's how old Stiles thinks he is. Stuff like that gets fuzzy within the years.

"Are you a male carrier?" the man asks, as if he doesn't see the three marks on his abdomen in display.

"Yes, sire," Stiles repeats again.

The man nods, then walks away.

Stiles warily looks at the man’s retreating back. He can't think of a place that needs a carrier slave, in fact, everyone avoids getting one. They are too fertile, no one needs bastards running around.

Well, it doesn't matter for now. Stiles kind of forgets the man, until the next day when he is bought by him.

The slave master looks ecstatic, like selling Stiles is the best thing that's ever happened to him, which immediately puts Stiles on alert.

The man gives Stiles a shirt and then they sit in a carriage along with three other slaves. Two of them are male carriers and the other one is a girl around his age. They all look very pretty even underneath all that dirt and just like that, Stiles understands what's happening.

They are sold to the harem.

He has heard of Lupious harem’s, everyone did. The subject is juicy and controversial enough for everyone to have an opinion on it.

Stiles casts a glance towards other slaves, wondering if they realized where they are headed to. If they did, they are good at not showing it.

The ride is long and quiet, two of the carriers fell asleep, sitting as they were. Stiles can feel his eyelids getting heavier by the second, but he is too wary to fall asleep.

The carriage stops. Stiles immediately straightens himself and sees the boys wake up. A sound of heavy gates opening and the carriage rides again.

The man in all white smiles at them, “Welcome to the King’s harem.”

Stiles' head spins.

~*~

Up close, the palace is even bigger. It has a territory of a small town and Stiles wonders if anyone ever got lost here. It's a beautiful place to get lost in, to be honest. Stiles can see the awe on the faces of other slaves and the amusement on the man's face as he watches them.

"This is going to be your home now. If you can get the King to notice you, it will be your home forever," strange man says.

Nobody answers, but Stiles knows what they are thinking.

This is too good to be true. There has to be a drawback. Maybe the King is a sadistic bastard, or he's ugly, sweaty and smelly. Or both.

The carriage stops and the door opens.

"You will be examined thoroughly, washed and fed in the next few hours," the man explains and leads them through.

For the next few hours that's exactly what is done to them. Over the course, Stiles finds out that the black man's name is Deaton and he is a palace healer. His touch is gentle and completely non-sexual when he examines them, professional in every way.

"What's your name?" he asks Stiles when all is finished.

"Stiles."

"Welcome to the palace, Stiles." Deaton smiles and opens the door of the infirmary.

~*~  
There have been a lot of rumors about the harem of the King of Lupus. That there are gold fountains, that the slaves go around naked, that there are orgies all day long.

Now, Stiles can see the truth for himself.

It's a big room, with pillows and small low tables everywhere, and two staircases on opposite sides of the room. There are around forty people in the room and all of them are breathtakingly gorgeous. Stiles feels strongly out of place. He knows he is not as pretty as them, he is not even as pretty as his companions. He doesn’t know what Deaton saw in him.

A beautiful woman with curly black hair and kind eyes stands before them.

"I am Lady McCall and from now on I will look after you. Her Royal Highness Queen-Mother is the head of the harem. I am her right hand, the treasurer of the harem. You are now part of this family." She says this with pride in her eyes and her voice, "Your job is to serve the Hale dynasty, whether it's to the King, Royal Sisters, the Prince, or the Queen-Mother. If you're lucky enough, maybe one of you would give this Kingdom its next king".

The other slaves look inspired, but Stiles isn't fooling himself. He knows his chances are really fucking small.

Lady McCall continues to explain the Harem system to them and it's pretty simple.

If they are picked to serve someone from the royal family, then they must work for them for ten years, after that they can either get married and leave or continue working at the palace. If they are never picked by anyone from the royal family, then they will be married out after five years.

New slaves go to classes for a few hours in the morning, then do their assigned job for the rest of the day. Every three days they bathe and once in two weeks a man from the market comes, so they can buy something for themselves.

That's the greatest part, Stiles thinks, they are getting paid. Stiles never in his life got paid, at first, he was too young to work and then he lost his freedom.

Of course, there are some drawbacks. They can’t speak to the men. They can't go to the gardens or another palace territory without a guard. The only condition in which they could leave the palace’s territory is if they got married, whether it's to the King or to someone else.

It's a reminder: he is getting paid, but he is still someone's property.

As if Stiles could ever forget that.

After the explanations, they are dismissed.

Stiles looks around and doesn't know what to do. It's close to bedtime, everyone has come back from work and now has a little free time for themselves. They sit in groups, looking carefree and cheerful, however, someone looks up to the second floor every once in a while, as if they are checking the limit to their happiness. At the top of the stairs stands a woman in a bright red dress that sparkles a little under the candlelight, her long dark hair falling freely on her shoulders. She looks like she owns this place with the proud way she holds herself, but Stiles is sure she's not one of the Hales.

"Who is she?" Stiles asks a boy who’s near him. 

"You're one of the new guys," he says and it isn't a question. The guy looks like those baby angels in paintings that Stiles saw in one of his masters' houses, with blond curls and high cheekbones. 

"Yeah, I'm Stiles."

"Isaac," he introduces himself and looks up. "That's Jennifer. She is the favorite concubine of His Majesty."

She looks very full of herself, Stiles thinks. Out loud he says "People look afraid of her." _Intimidated_ , but Stiles doesn’t know how to say it in Lupe.

Isaac huffs. "She’s a bitch. Thinks she is going to be the next Queen-Mother, give His Majesty an heir," Isaac stresses the last word. "Honestly, I think she is infertile. And thank Gods for that".

Stiles furrows his eyebrows in confusion. That’s a word he hasn't heard before. "What's infertile?" he asks.

"Infertile means she can't have a baby," Isaac patiently explains.

Stiles nods.

"I don't know what His Majesty sees in her," the girl next to them speaks up. She's got long blonde curls and big pretty eyes that are heavily lined with eyeliner.

"I don't think he's thinking with his head," Isaac jokes and the girl snickers.

"The King likes only Jennifer?" asks Stiles when the laughter dies out.

"You mean does he only sleep with her?" the blondie guesses. "Sometimes he chooses someone else, sometimes Queen-Mother or his sisters send someone else. But he quite obviously prefers Jennifer. I think she charmed him with love spells."

Isaac rolls his eyes. It seems this is a long-time argument of theirs.

"Or maybe she just gives fantastic blowjobs," he says.

"We're all good at that," the blondie scoffs, then turns to Stiles: "I'm Erica, by the way."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Stiles." Stiles says and smiles.

Erica and Isaac seem really nice. They're cousins, they tell him, brought to the harem two years ago. None of them were with the King, but they saw him a couple of times. Isaac doesn't really care if he won't see him ever in his life, but Erica wants to be with the King passionately.

"How does the King look?" Stiles asks them.

Erica opens her mouth, but Isaac cuts in before she has a chance to say anything. “He is unpleasant looking. He has these big yellow teeth, little eyes, huge nose. He is so big that he can't even come through the door and he constantly stinks of sweat.” He wrinkles his nose. “I heard he is twisted in bed. Jennifer’s servant girl says she’s constantly covered in bruises."

Erica nods along, looking somber and serious.

It's exactly what Stiles was expecting but he is terrified nonetheless. He would live a happy life if he never has to bed the King.

~*~

Stiles is getting used to the palace life. He likes its safe routine, the fact that no one has beaten him even once and that there is no such thing as hunger in this place. He is getting used to the local customs and rules, like eating while sitting on the floor, because every table is small and low. He doesn’t think he's seen a chair around here _anywhere_.

Most of all, Stiles loves his classes. They teach him Lupe grammar, how to read and write, and the Lupe etiquette. It’s the only interesting part of the day, even if his teacher is a bit crazy.

On his third week he sees the Royal Sisters for the first time. It's a quiet evening, Erica and Isaac are somewhere working, so Stiles sits by himself in the corner and observes the people. There are even numbers of male and female slaves, which is an oddity. Male carries are extremely rare, buying and finding women is much more easier and cheaper. But male carries are also _very_  fertile, so Stiles guesses they are worth the trouble.

The door suddenly opens and loud voice bellows: "All rise for Her Royal Highness Princess Laura and Her Royal Highness Princess Cora." As soon as that is said, everyone stops what they are doing, rises and bows. Stiles tips his head down and briefly looks at the entrance.

Two figures come in with, he thinks, servants behind them.

"I heard that Deaton bought a couple of new slaves," a female voice says. "Where are they?"

"New one’s, come here," Lady McCall orders.

The four of them come forward, their eyes on the floor. They bow.

"Look at me, all of you," Her Highness commands.

They look up. There are two beautiful women standing there. One is taller than the other, with long black hair, high cheekbones and bright green eyes. The second princess is younger, her hair and eyes the same light brown color. Undoubtedly gorgeous, but looks nothing like her sister.

"Not bad," the older one nods. "They're all quite lovely. Do you like it here?" she addresses them.

They all mumble their agreements and praises.

"Work hard and it will pay off. You've been honored with a place in the harem, don't disappoint us," the older princess continues.

Stiles keeps his eyes down, but then sees a movement to the left. A woman figure stands beside the younger sister.

Her Highness finishes her bullshit speech about how blessed they are, nods at the Lady McCall and leaves the room. Everyone bows once again.

The younger sister continues to stand where she is.

"You may continue what you were doing," she says and turns to her companion, "You may stay here for the evening, Lydia. I know that you've become bored, I kept you too busy.”

"My Lady, every second with you is a pleasure," the girl named Lydia answers.

"Before your sleep, come visit me," the Princess says a little quieter and her voice becomes much softer and more intimate.

"As you wish, my Lady," says Lydia, with a smile in her voice.

Her Royal Highness leaves, everyone bows and continues to do what they were doing.

The four newcomers are free too and Stiles goes back to his corner and this time observes Lydia.

The most noticeable feature of hers is her shiny red hair. It is no surprise that she is gorgeous, like the others in the harem, but her hair makes her appearance seem brighter, like the sun. She sits on a pillow and instantly everyone surrounds her. She starts telling them something that makes everyone catch her every word, no one daring to interrupt her.

Lydia has the same aura of power surrounding her that Jennifer has, Stiles notices. She is obviously not of royal blood, but she could be noble. Perhaps some duke's daughter.

Later that day, Isaac tells him: " She is Princess Cora's favorite concubine. They are very close. Lydia is Her Highness' greatest treasure."

Stiles is confused. "Princesses have harems too?"

"Princess Cora does since she prefers women. Princess Laura does not, so she will be wed a virgin."

"Does the Princess have many concubines?" Stiles asks.

"Not as many as His Majesty," Erica replies.

Stiles thinks of Lydia and Jennifer. Being a favorite mistress, is it hard? What do they have to do to always stay on top? Is it worth it, in the end?

Stiles, and a couple of others are trusted to clean Jennifer's room some days after. She is having a walk in the gardens, so she's not in the room to "boss them around", as Erica puts it.

Jennifer's room is not _that_  big, but it's not small either. There's a small round table in the corner, a bed, a wardrobe, and a big mirror. All of it only hers, just because she is the King's favorite. Stiles, or anyone for that matter, could get the same room for themselves if they keep King's attention long enough. And, compared to the stuff he had to do before, that's not hard at all.

Nevertheless Stiles remembers Isaac warning about the King. Maybe it is a tough job. Maybe Jennifer is suffering every night she beds him. He won't know anyway and doesn't really want to. Although, when Stiles looks at the wide room that Jennifer doesn't have to share with anyone else, and has other people to clean up for her, something tickles in his mind.

Stiles kind of wants that, but without all the hard work. It's uneven scales, with jewels and his own room on the one side and lying in bed with the cruel man on the other. In Stiles' head, they outweigh each other constantly.

~*~  
The palace’s life is steady, a routine that Stiles easily got used to. It’s calm to the point of being boring and he thought that’s how it was everywhere.

Oh, Gods, how wrong he was.

He get’s assigned to the kitchen and it's chaotic and loud and smelly and _loud_. Normally, Stiles wouldn't be assigned to a place like this so quickly after he was bought, but there's a flu going around the palace and a lot of kitchen servants got down with it. They needed people and quickly, so Stiles got the job.

So far, he washed some dishes, peeled potatoes and chopped a couple of carrots. He had just put away a clean pot when a woman grabs him by the arm and gives him a tray full of food. "You, big eyes, take this," she commands. "By the Gods, don't drop it! Take this to the library and don't fuck this up. Do not make me regret choosing you to do this, you understand? If you mess things up, I will _destroy_ your whole fucking life."

Stiles nods, but doesn't understand what the woman means. Fuck up what? Holding a tray?

She pushes him through the door and waves him off.

Stiles has no idea where the library is, so he asks the first servant he sees. The man quickly tells him and then just as quickly runs off to do his things.

Stiles finds the door the servant was talking with two soldiers guarding it. They look at the tray and let him in.

The library is the most majestic thing Stiles has ever seen. He looks at the giant bookshelves, with shelves so high that he'll have to take a ladder to reach it. He forgets what he is doing, just for a moment, until a loud _thud_ comes from somewhere deep inside the room.

A man sits behind a table, in the corner of the room, looking deeply concentrated on his work.

Stiles looks at him and tries to figure out who the hell he is.

The man has light stubble, short dark hair and a muscular figure, but is dressed too luxurious for a knight. His clothes are not extravagant, but Stiles knows expensive material when he sees it, and there are two rings on his fingers. Definitely not a knight or a soldier. He's surely not the King, but he might be the Prince or perhaps a cousin of his. Or just some nobleman.

"Your lunch, sire," Stiles says and slightly bows.

"Bring it here," the man says and his voice is softer and not as gruff as Stiles imagined it would be.

He puts the tray down, keeping his eyes low, but can't help to look over what else is there on the table.

And then he sees it. The familiar consonants and sonorous vowels, the little dots underneath the letters. Right there lays a text written in his mother tongue. He hasn’t seen those familiar letters for so long he almost feels like he imagines them. But no, they are here, lying on a table in the Capitol of Lupus.

The mysterious man seems to be reading the text, but judging by his face, he is not really understanding it.

Don't do this, don't do this, Stiles, don't-

"Sire, forgive this slave for speaking, but I am familiar with the Vavivian language," Stiles hears himself say.

The man finally looks up. "Who the hell are you?"

"A slave from the harem, my Lord. But I know how to read and write and talk in Vavivian. If my Lord wishes, I could help you. If not, I will wait for the punishment I deserve."

The man doesn’t say anything for a bit, like he is deciding what to do. "Very well," he finally says. "Can you translate this line?"

He points to the said line, nearly at the beginning of the letter. The man definitely already translated it, so it's a test that Stiles will gladly take. Especially if it means reading in his mother tongue again.

_"Those institutions must guarantee everybody's dignity and a chance to live up to people's potential."_

"What's your name?" the man asks.

"Stiles, sire."

"It seems like I do need some help, Stiles. I tried to find Vavivian translator, but that task seems to be impossible," the man confesses.

The country of Vavivia was small and is (or was. The country doesn't exist anymore, though it lives on in Stiles’ mind) situated on the other side of the continent from Lupus. Vavivia was once a great kingdom, not like Lupus, but it was respected among the others. It was especially known for its philosophers, the research and work they’ve done. Unfortunately, their wise King died, and after that the greed of the nobles and the everlasting wars destroyed the country year by year. And then, if that wasn't enough, plague came. Vavivia had been conquered by its neighbor country before anyone could realize what was happening, which was when Stiles and many others had lost their freedom.

"I would gladly assist you, my Lord," Stiles says.

"How long have you lived in the harem?" the man asks. He doesn't sound demanding when he asks the question, just curious. 

Only two types of people talk like that: those who aren’t accustomed yet to their power and those who are so powerful that they don't even have to sound demanding to get their questions answered.

"About a month now, sire," Stiles answers.

The man hums.

"You will help me three times a week, Stiles. I will send someone when you are needed. You may go."

Stiles bows and leaves the library. He still has no idea who that man is, but he got the chance to read in his language again. For the rest of the day, the smile doesn't leave his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU
> 
> Thank you everyone for the support! I honestly did not expect that, at all. Thank you!
> 
> I also need to thank two more people: K. and G.
> 
> K., you have been there for me from the very start, when this fic was just a silly idea of mine. Without your help and support nothing would have happened, so thank you and ILY~
> 
> G., you are the best cheerleader ever, without you I wouldn't have the courage to post this fic. Thank you for your kind words and for your support<3
> 
> P.S. **Warning** , Stiles has a panic-attack, almost at the end, so, y'know, be aware or whatever.

The Man, whose name or title Stiles still doesn't know, keeps Stiles busy with the translation. He is not enthusiastic at all, obviously not doing the work for pleasure, only sheer need. Stiles, however, doesn’t care and eagerly waits for those hours.

It is a day between their working sessions when the Prince visits, and honestly, he is not what Stiles was expecting. He strides into the harem like a hurricane, so fast that he left no time for the guards to announce his arrival. Everybody bows anyways.

The Prince is nothing like his sisters. He looks like a wild, excited dog, where his sisters are cold, dangerous wolves. There is no grace in him, no mystery.

Lady McCall greets His Grace, "Was there anything you wanted, my Prince?"

"My sisters advised me to see the new one’s, maybe pick someone for my personal service," he says and immediately Lady McCall calls for them.

The four of them stand in front of the Prince, while he silently inspects each one of them. When he stands in front of Stiles, he lights up. "Hey, I saw you coming out of the library, the other day. You must be the one who helps with the translations."

"I am, my Lord," Stiles answers. He can feel everybody's piercing eyes on him, their attention hot on his skin.

"Well, if he trusts you, then so can I," the Prince decides, then turns to the Lady. "That settles then, he will be in my service."

"As you wish, my Prince." Lady McCall turns to Stiles, "Go with the Prince now, you were blessed with the greatest honor. You must be very lucky."

Stiles can't help but wonder at her definition of 'luck'. In Stiles' book, to be _lucky_ means to be _free_.

Prince's room is very masculine, very messy and very big. Everything that surrounds Stiles is expensive, yet simple. A soldier's room.

"It's the flu," the Prince explains, pointing out the mess. He sits on the edge of the bed and for the first time, he does look like royalty. None of the slaves sit like that - the Prince's posture is of someone who _knows_ that he is one of the most important people in the world.

"So, tell me about yourself. What is your name? Who are you?" the Prince says. "And look me in eye while doing so."

Well, that's an odd order. Why does he need to know anything about a slave?

Stiles looks up and can finally see the man's face fully. The Prince has a slightly crooked jaw, tan skin and kind brown eyes that remind him of Lady McCall’s. He looks nothing like his sisters.

"My name is Stiles, my Lord. I'm a slave from Vavivia. I was bought about a month ago," he says.

There is a silence for a moment. The Prince blinks. "That's it? Who were your parents? How old are you? I still have no idea what kind of person you are, I know nothing."

"Forgive me, m'lord. I haven't had such an experience before," Stiles explains. "My father was a soldier, my mother was a healer. They were both killed when my country was conquered when I was ten. I'm twenty now. "

"Your Lupe is very good. It's like you've been living years in this country," the Prince praises him.

Stiles smiles. "Thank you, my Prince."

The Prince smiles back and Stiles thinks he’s okay.

That evening, while Stiles is cleaning up the room, the Prince tells him about his day and asks Stiles of his life before the harem. Then, after an hour or two, he faux-casually says, "So, you know Kira?"

"Yes, my Lord," says Stiles. The girl with the jet black hair, from some exotic country that Stiles has never heard of. Sometimes she hangs out with them, but more often than not, she doesn't.

"What can you say about her?" Scott questions.

"Um, she seems nice. I don't know her that well, sire."

"Oh," the Prince seems really disappointed at that. "Well, if you could befriend her, that will be quite nice."

Stiles blinks. That is a really weird order. Again.

"I will do that, my Lord."

The Prince smiles, looking happy, while Stiles continues to clean up.

~*~

The Man from the library has several qualities that makes him a bad student: he is impatient, short-tempered and snappish. He looks at the text as if it’s something disgusting and like he wants nothing more than to burn it all down, but, now matter how irritated he gets, they still meet and do their lessons.

The first day, Stiles was scared shitless of him. The second lesson too. But on the fifth one, reluctantly, he starts to like him. The man has a dry sense of humor that Stiles enjoys, is obviously smart and last, but not least, he is incredibly, mouth-wateringly attractive.

Stiles has sneaked a few glances at his face and, oh Gods, what a beautiful face it is. High cheekbones, black hair and bluegreengray eyes.

"So, _ferami_ means wild, while _fёrami_ means horseshit," The Man says. He sits by the table, while Stiles hovers near him.

"Yes, my Lord," Stiles answers, amused.

"That is such a shit language," Mysterious Man says. “No wonder no one wants to fucking learn it.”

“Then you are twice as lucky to have found me, my Lord,” Stiles replies.

"I would tease you too, but unfortunately your Lupe is very good," The Man says.

"That is the second time in two days that I hear this."

"Who else has told you that?" The Man asks.

"The Prince, m'lord."

The Man raises his eyebrows. "Scott? When did you talk to him?"

"Yesterday, sire. The Prince chose me as his personal servant."

"Do you teach him Vavivian too?"

"No, sire, he just needs me to clean his chambers."

"What a waste of your potential," The Man says, looking him right in the eyes.

Indeed, Stiles thinks. Indeed.

"Well, you have to promise me that I will be your only student," Mysterious Man says and for a second, Stiles thinks that it sounds a lot like flirting. But it can't be, right?

"Only if you promise me I will be your only teacher," Stiles flirts back. Gods, he is digging his own grave.

The Man wolfishly grins.

Stiles knows that sometimes the King lets some of his important guests 'borrow' his slaves for the night and sometimes he gives them away like a gift. It is considered an honor to receive a slave from the King's harem.

So theoretically, Stiles has a chance to be with The Man. But the chances of that happening are so, so incredibly small.

“Are you a good student yourself, Stiles?” Mysterious Man asks him.

There he goes again, pronouncing his name with that wonderful accent of his.

“I’ve been told that I am, sire. I’m a _very_  quick learner.” Stiles doesn’t mean for it to sound so suggestive, but his voice still comes out almost as a purr.

As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he can feel the mood in the room changing. Before, everything was light and playful, but now the air feels heavy and it’s a little bit hard to breathe. Neither of them make any sound, just stare at each other, until Stiles flicks his gaze away.

“Well,” The Man says hoarsely, then clears his throat, “I am very glad to have such an _exceptional_  teacher slash translator.”

Stiles breathes in and out.

“Let’s get to the next paragraph, shall we?” he says, trying to change the topic and the atmosphere of the room.

It’s awkward for the rest of the lesson. They try extra hard not to touch each other and The Man won’t look up at him, when he asks Stiles questions.

But before he leaves, Mysterious Man says, “I give you my permission to look me in the eyes, Stiles.”

Stiles bows and leaves, looking at his feet the entire time.

 

He can feel his face heating up after he leaves the library. He just picked the absolutely wrong person as his crush. Stiles hopes it will pass quickly; i. It’s not like The Man’s will be in need of his services forever. They are going to finish translating the document and Stiles will stop being useful after that would stop being useful anymore.

This isn’t the first time that he has developed a crush. He has had never loved somebody, but he has had his moments. Not to mention, he even has had some sexual experience. He’s still a virgin where it matters because he’s fertile as fuck and nobody wants a problem, h. However, Stiles is halfway decent at handjobs and blowjobs.

It’s dinner time in the harem and Isaac and Erica are already eating by the table when he comes back. They grabbed a plate for him, which Stiles appreciates.

“You seem awfully busy these days, Stiles,” Isaac remarks.

“Well, gotta make myself useful,” he replies and takes a bite of the chicken.

“That stuff is all pointless, sweetie. If you wanna be useful, pleasure the King,” Erica says.

“He already has Jennifer for that,” Stiles says. “He doesn’t need me. Plus, why would I want to pleasure a cruel man?”

Isaac and Erica smile at that, but don’t answer. It should feel like he has won the argument, but instead, it feels like he’s missing something. It seems to always rather always feels like that, with these two. They smile those twin, secretive twin little smiles and Stiles doesn’t have any clue what they are thinking about. But they grab him a plate when he’s not there to get it himself, so he just ignores the shady parts of their friendship.

~*~

Stiles knows that somewhere in the palace, there are smaller harems, belonging to thea Prince, and to the Princess. But he has no idea where they are located and doesn't even know the concubines from there. He hasn’t seen any unfamiliar faces in the classes and when he’s working he meets a lot of people. He was willing to guess Lydia rules Cora's harem, like Jennifer somewhat does the King's. But what about Scott’s? Does he have a favorite concubine? How many does he even haveof them even are there? Certainly not as many as in the King's harem, but definitely more than in the Princesses’.

Just as he starts wondering about that, Prince Scott requests a concubine. It’s an evening and the Prince just came to his chambers after training with the soldiers, looking sweaty and happy, with a big smile on his face.

“Say to my mother, that I request a concubine tonight. Tell her that I want someone new,” the Prince says.

Stiles is at loss.

“Your mother? Queen Talia?” Stiles tentatively asks.

Prince looks at him strangely. “No. My mother is Lady McCall.”

Oh.  _Oh_.

“Yes, of course,” Stiles falters, “I--uh, sorry, my Grace.”

And with that, he runs out of the room as fast as he can.

There are not a lot of people in the harem, so there’s a chance that Lady McCall might not be there. Stiles looks around, then decides to do it the easier way and just stops the girl that’s passing by. “Have you seen Lady McCall?”

“Yes, she is in Jennifer’s room,” the girl answers.

“Thanks,” Stiles murmurs and goes to the second floor.

The door is closed, but Stiles hears voices inside.

“—ways puts the damn thing on! I can’t even touch it, he doesn’t allow it!” Jennifer says. She sounds frustrated. “Said he will chop my hands off if I try.”

“You know there is nothing that Queen Talia can do,” Lady McCall answers patiently. “And you know the orders, so I don’t know why we’re having this discussion again.”

“She can _persuade_  him, she’s his _mother_ , for fuck’s sake. He will listen to her,” Jennifer says.

“I-” Lady McCall starts to say, but stops abruptly when Stiles knocks on the door.

“Come in,”a women’s – Jennifer’s - voice says.

Lady McCall stands in front of Jennifer, who sits on the couch in a really bright yellow dress, which looks quite ridiculous. She is a funny combination of annoyed and elegant- like she wants to throw a tantrum but afraid it will ruin her hair.

“Lady McCall, the Prince has sent me,” Stiles says. “He wants a concubine tonight. Someone new.”

“Very well, if my Prince wishes so,” Lady McCall says. She turns to Jennifer, “I must go. I will give the Queen-Mother your message.”

Jennifer nods, still looking annoyed, and they leave. Stiles glances at the Lady, wondering what they were talking about. What does Jennifer want from the Queen-Mother herself? He knows the Lady senses his interest, but this is also none of his business, so they both stay quiet.

Lady McCall leads them through the palace and he quickly forgets about Jennifer. He feels more excited with each passing second. The day has come, he will see the other harem! He wants to hurry Lady McCall up, wants to bounce and run from anticipation, but of course he does nothing of the sort.

Finally, they reach a door and Lady McCall opens it.

The room of the Prince’s harem is not as large as the King’s, but it’s still a fucking big room. It doesn’t have a second floor, instead, there are multiple doors in the room. Everything inside is similar to Stiles’ harem, with it’s couches, pillows, and miniature tables with fruits on them. There are about twenty girls in the room and no boys. Most people don’t really set apart women and male carriers in their sexual preferences, as they both can bear children, but it seems like the Prince enjoys round breasts rather than flat chests.

The girls are young and pretty, and look !!!!very!!! eager. It is impossible to guess who’s the favorite one since none of them have that look of self-importance or jewels around their necks.

“Lady McCall,” one of the girls says breathlessly, “who does the Prince want?”

“Someone new,” Lady answers, quoting the Prince, and looks carefully at the concubines. They all patiently wait, all of them willing and nervous. Each one of them wants to be picked, each one of them dreams of this day. The tension is so thick, Stiles could cut it with a knife.

“Sara,” Lady McCall finally announces, after what seems like a century. Everyone exhales at once. The girl- Sara- stays quiet, but by the happy sparkle in her eyes, she screams internally. “Today is your lucky day. Get ready as quickly as you can, Stiles will guide you to the Prince. _Do not_ disappoint me.”

Sara, a green-eyed brunette with nice white teeth, nods actively.

“Of course not, my Lady. I will do anything to make the Prince happy.” She sounds like she genuinely means it.

Lady McCall smiles and leaves the room. Everybody bows.

As soon as the Lady’s out of the room, there’s a lot of squealing, clapping and talking.

“Oh my Gods, you are sooo lucky!”

“You will tell us everything!”

“Ugh, Fate loves you, Sara. I wish I was in your place.”

They go to their bedroom, which is a door at the far end of the room.

Stiles waits an hour for them. All the girls are in the bedroom, so there’s no one in the room with him, except for the head eunuch. Out of curiosity, he checks every room. There’s a toilet room and a bathing room, and one of the doors is locked, which is probably a chamber for the Favorites. That inspection took him literally five minutes, so Stiles lies on the pillows and closes his eyes.

After a really long fucking hour- Gods, what do they do for an hour?- Sara comes out. She wears a simple red dress that could be taken off within a second by the clasps on her shoulders. How practical and smart. Her hair is wavy and loose on her shoulders, and her lips are shining seductively under the candlelights. She looks lovely.

They don’t speak on their way there. Sara seems very nervous, playing with her hair the whole time, but Stiles doesn’t know what to say to her, so he doesn’t speak. When they reach the room, he knocks on the door.

“Your Highness, the concubine is here.”

“Let her in,” comes the reply and the door opens.

“Good luck,” Stiles whispers to the girl. She nods and goes inside.

The door closes.

~*~

On the next day, the day of translating, a servant comes to Stiles.

“Please come with me,” he says and leads Stiles out of the palace.

Stiles follows him, feeling incredibly confused.

They’re not going to the library. What is happening?

“Where are we going?” Stiles asks the servant.

“I’ve been told to say it’s a surprise,” he answers.

“You’re not leading me to my death, are you?” Stiles suspiciously looks at the boy.

“Even if I was, I could not tell you this,” the boy answers and further creeps Stiles out.

They reach a giant door, the servant nods at the guards and they open it.

The outside, with it’s fresh air, blazing sun and blue sky welcomes Stiles back. It’s really bright at first, so Stiles squints his eyes. They are in the gardens, or so Stiles thinks they are. It doesn’t really matter, because he is breathing fresh air once more.

 _Wait_.

“Aren’t I supposed to have permission or an escort for this?” Stiles asks nervously. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

“I am your escort,” the boy answers, like that solves everything, and leads them to a far off tree.

There is somebody sitting on the pillows and as they come near, Stiles recognizes The Man.

“Hello, Stiles,” he smirks and Gods, he looks as beautiful as ever. The Man waves off the boy, who bows and goes away. “I thought we should change our location. It is a shame sitting inside the library on such a good day. Don’t you think so?”

“Uh,” Stiles answers.

“Sit.” Mysterious Man points at the other pillow.

“Uh, yes--I’m --thank you,” Stiles stammers.

The Man looks amused.

There are fruits, books and a journal on the blanket, which means this _is_  a translating lesson. But it doesn’t feel like one.

“Um, let’s start, I guess,” Stiles says.

They have translated a paragraph when Stiles’ stomach growls.

The Man chuckles and Stiles can feel his own face heating up with embarrassment.

“I didn’t bring these fruit for nothing,” Mysterious Man says. He picks up a small red fruit and takes a bite. “Eat anything you like, Stiles.”

“What is it that you are eating, my Lord?” he asks.

The Man looks at the fruit in his hand. “This is a strawberry. You’ve never had one?”

Stiles shakes his head.

The Man takes a strawberry and lifts it towards Stiles. Stiles reaches out to take it, but The Man jerks his hand back.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

 _Oh my Gods_.

Stiles does as he’s told. Mysterious Man lifts a strawberry to Stiles’ lips and Stiles bites it, leaving only little leaves in the Man’s hand.

The fruit is sour-sweet, but Stiles doesn’t care about it at all. Not when The Man is looking at him with dark, hooded eyes.

Mysterious Man takes the new strawberry and rips off the leaves on top of it.

He lifts the strawberry to Stiles’ mouth. Stiles takes it all and feels The Man’s fingertips on his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Mysterious Man whispers, his eyes almost black. He traces Stiles’ lips with his finger- first, the upper lip, then the bottom one with his thumb.

Stiles is half-hard in his pants, his thoughts getting more hazy by the seconds. He wants to take that thumb in his mouth and suck it like he would a cock. He wants to kiss The Man, find out if he tastes like strawberries, if his stubble would scratch his face. Stiles wants many things, but after thinking about all of them, he knows that he can’t.

He jerks back, leaving Mysterious Man’s hand hanging. The Man frowns at him.

“I’m sorry, my Lord, but I am His Majesty’s concubine. If anything happens between us without his permission, we both will be hanged or beheaded, or quartered, or all those things together, ” Stiles cautions. “So let’s continue translating. My Lord.” He adds awkwardly.

The Man stops frowning and looks carefully at Stiles instead. After a moment, he nods, wipes his hands with a napkin and they both pretend nothing happened just moments ago. The silence between them is heavy, awkward and tense. Stiles can’t look The Man in the face, while the latter does the opposite and stares at Stiles the whole time. He doesn’t do anything inappropriate nor does he say anything that isn’t related to the text, but he stares, stares and stares.

“So, you’re only objection is the King?” The Man asks at the end of their lesson.

“He is a huge obstacle, my Lord. We mustn’t be careless,” Stiles chastises The Man.

“You are right, Stiles.” Mysterious Man agrees. “You may go.”

Stiles bows and leaves. He pretends he doesn’t feel regret and disappointment.

 ~*~

There are two bedrooms on the second floor of the harem, on two opposite sides. One staircase leads to a carrier's bedroom, the other to the female one.

There are around thirty narrow futons, two mirrors, and a large number of shelves on the walls with thirty nightstands opposite their futons, where they keep their belongings. Because not everything could fit on the stand, everybody puts their stuff on the shelves and under the mattresses. Theft is punished quickly, efficiently and brutally, so things don’t tend to go missing. Stiles is new, so he doesn’t really have a lot of things. He's been given some plain clothes when he had arrived and that is all he had.

The room is cramped, too small for them all. Stiles hates it with all his heart. In the night it’s always too hot, in the day too smelly. Stiles wonders if the Prince’s harem bedroom is better than this.

Perhaps Jennifer can tolerate the King if only not to come back here, Stiles thinks.

“So, I heard you were outside today,” Isaac whispers.

They lie so close to each other, that Stiles could feel Isaac’s breath on his face.

“Yeah, had to do my job.” Stiles is being vague on purpose. He doesn’t want to remember what happened- what could’ve happened- in the garden. Plus, he never really tells what happens in the translating lessons. It’s too intimate and dangerous to share.

Isaac narrows his eyes. “You are hiding something.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Stiles whispers irately.

Gods, if Isaac- if anyone- found out, he will get killed. Mysterious Man will get killed. Why is Isaac so damn perceptive and nosy?

“You’ve been acting weird since you came back,” Isaac says.

“No, I’ve been not.” Stiles replies. “It’s you who’s acting crazy right now. You’re too paranoid.”

Isaac is definitely not taking any of Stiles’ bullshit. “Uh-huh,” he says and searches Stiles’ face for something.

Stiles tries to put on blank expression and hopes it looks convincing.

After a moment Isaac leans even more, so much that Stiles can feel the next words on his lips. “You are hiding something and I’m gonna find out what,” he whispers and turns over.

 _Shit_ , Stiles thinks.

~*~

In the morning Isaac watches him over like a hawk and Erica looks very amused by that. At least she’s not being nosy too, but that makes Stiles suspicious because it’s really out of her character.

He goes to his classes and Teacher Finstock is being weird as usual. The man is loud, and most of the time seems to live in his own head, but he does know what he’s talking about when he’s teaching.

“Remember, the Lupe kingdom has a very strict hierarchy. If you forget that even for a second,” Teacher Finstock says pointing his finger at them, “even for a _second_ , darlings, you will lose your head.

“There’s the King, then there’s the Queen-Mother, then the Prince, then the Princesses, then whoever gives birth to the heir, then whoever gives birth to a member of royal family in general. The only person who does not bow to the King is his mother. They are at the top of the food chain,” Finstock points at the top of a triangle that he drew on the board, “then there are governors, all the rich people and this piece of shit Greenberg. Always wondered how the fuck he got there, that lazy piece of-,” he fumbles and clears his throat, “Anyway, then there’s the treasurer, which is Lady McCall, then we, the eunuchs. We are the middle of this triangle of power.” Finstock points at the board.

“And there are you, my darlings, right at the bottom with the soldiers and cooks. And you can either stay at the bottom forever or be at the top. The most ambitious and lucky one wins.”

 

After that surprisingly insightful lesson, Stiles quickly eats and before Isaac can return, goes to his job.

Prince Scott is in his room and probably for the first time since Stiles met him, looks serious.

“Oh hey,” he greets Stiles softly and gives a small weak smile.

Stiles bows and smiles back, then frowns a little in concern. “Your Highness, is everything all right?”

“I heard some very unpleasant rumors, Stiles,” Prince Scott replies.

Oh Gods, Stiles thinks in horror. He knows about the garden, he knows about The Man, he kno—

“They say there are rebels on the north of the kingdom,” Scott continues, “and that they have a very rich supporter.”

Oh. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. Thank Gods!

“I’m very sorry to hear that, my Lord,” Stiles says, trying not to sound too relieved, and act like he cares. “Maybe those are just that, just rumors?”

Prince Scott shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. When it all began I thought so too, but now things are getting more and more serious.” He frowns. “What angers me the most is that rich supporter, he is the one who’s holding the reins. It can be either someone of our enemies, or it can be someone of _ours._  If it’s an enemy then it’s logical, the snake will always bite. But if it’s someone of our people…”

The Prince’s hands are shaking and he looks genuinely mad. Stiles always thought he was like a puppy, cute, aloof and uncaring. But now he doesn’t look like any of those things.

“I’m sure that you will solve this problem, my Prince, and whoever is at fault would be rightfully punished,” Stiles says soothingly.

“Thank you, Stiles,” Scott says and then smiles happily. “This is the first time that you said I’m your prince.”

This is the first time that I felt it was the truth, Stiles thinks and changes the topic. “How was Sara, my Lord? I hope she didn’t give you any trouble.”

Scott shoots him a look that says he isn’t fooled, but indulges Stiles.

“She was nice,” he says.

“Just nice, my Lord?” Stiles teases.

“Y’know, pleasant,” Scott explains waving his hand. “I just—Have you ever been in love?”

Well, that took a weird unexpected turn.

“Uh, no, my Grace,” Stiles answers and really wants to ask but holds himself back. You can’t be nosy with a prince.

“I think, um, that I may be. In love, that is,” Prince clarifies. “I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep.” He confesses quietly. “I mean, with the rebels and all, they are kind of the first thing I think about, but you got the idea. ”

Stiles nods. He doesn’t really understand why he would want to sleep with ‘someone new’ when he is love with someone else, but oh well. Royalty.

“Promise me you wouldn’t tell anyone!” Prince Scott suddenly exclaims. “Nobody knows, except Cora. And that’s because Lydia is too smart and figured everything out.”

“Why would you want to keep your love a secret?” Stiles asks confused. Then hastily adds. “If you don’t mind me asking, my Lord.”

“It’s complicated,” Scott answers. “Just don’t say anything to anyone. Especially not to my brother!”

“I promise, my Lord, to you and all the Gods,” Stiles swears and bows, just in case.

Scott looks satisfied.

~*~

Stiles worked today more than he usually did and by time he came to the harem, everyone was already there, back from their jobs.

He is heading to the bathroom, when Lady McCall calls out his name.

“My Lady?” Stiles bows.

“You are blessed from each and every God, my dear,” Lady McCall says, smiling at him. “First, my Prince and the now the King!”

“What?”

“The King asked specifically for you, Stiles,” Lady McCall explains. “Now the girls and other carriers will get you ready.”

What is happening. The King asked specifically for him? How is that possible?

Oh no, maybe he knows about The Man. He definitely knows about him, otherwise why would he ask for him?

While he is freaking out, Lady McCall nudges him towards the bathing room, where seven concubines wait for him already.

“You know what to do,” the Prince’s mother says and leaves.

Before he knows it, he’s nude and everybody is washing him. Some flowery scented oil is rubbed on his skin and everyone is talking to him at once.

“Gods, you are one lucky bastard,” some guy who’s washing his hair says.

“Jennifer’s going to be pissed,” some girl who’s washing his ankle giggles.

“Maybe you will get pregnant tonight,” some guy with the towel says wistfully.

Stiles doesn’t really listen to them, because there’s only one thought that’s screaming inside his brain.

_The King knows!_

The sadistic cruel King knows about him and The Man, and now they will get their punishment. Maybe the King had already tortured Mysterious Man and will rape Stiles in front of him. Maybe the King beheaded The Man and will torture Stiles in front of his dead head. Maybe…

Stiles has never been more scared in his entire life. His hands are shaking and it’s becoming difficult to breath. Each time it’s like there’s less and less air and soon there is none. Stiles tries to take a breath but nothing happens, nothing happens, there’s no air…

“Breathe with me, breathe!” Someone orders. “Come on, one, two, three, you can do it. Come on, Stiles, one, two, three…”

Stiles tries to listen to the voice. Each breath becomes easier with each second and then he is back to normal again, only slightly shaking. Stiles looks around and everyone is standing with scared shocked expressions on their faces, and Lady McCall and Kira are kneeling beside him.

“Don’t worry so much, Stiles. If the King doesn’t like you, you will still continue to work for my son. He won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Lady McCall says soothingly. Beside her, Kira is smiling at him reassuringly and Stiles realizes that it’s was her who was talking to him through his… _thing_.

Everyone is still looking at him, while he sits on the bathroom floor naked, so he croaks out “Yeah, sorry, freaked out a little bit.”

Lady McCall whispers, “Don’t worry, honey,” and leaves.

Once they finish preparing him for the King, they slide luxurious tunic and little blue shorts on him and lead him out of the room. Stiles doesn’t know why they bothered with the tunic, since it hides absolutely nothing. Anyone could count goose bumps on his skin through it.

Erica and Isaac stare at him, in fact everyone is staring at him, while he’s being lead through the harem. Stiles is pretty sure Jennifer looks at him from the second floor, but he doesn’t check. He glances at his friends.

Erica looks at him with jealousy and anger, while Isaac mouths at him “I knew it”, looking quite angry himself.

Lady McCall smiles at him kindly and leads him to the King.

“The King doesn’t like nor want anybody to spend the night with him, so after everything is done, he will either tell you to leave yourself or I will come get you. Don’t protest and don’t complain,” Lady McCall orders firmly.

“Um, okay, my Lady,” Stiles stammers.

She confuses his fear for nerves and smiles at him reassuringly. Her smile reminds him a little of his mother.

“Don’t be scared, Stiles. Everything’s gonna be all right,” she comforts him. Then she becomes all business again. “When you will get inside the room, you will kneel before the king and stand only when he orders you to. Understand me?”

Stiles nods, his throat too tight with fear for words.

They finally reach big wooden door, with guards on either side. When they see them, one guard opens the door and walks inside, then he reappears again after a second.

“You may enter,” he says and opens the door.

“Don’t worry, honey,” The Lady whispers to him and squeezes his hand.

Stiles smiles weakly at her, then looks at the door and enters the room. The door behind him is shut in an instant.

For a second, he feels disorientated, because everything is so _big_ , as if the room was made for a giant. The ceiling is high, the bed is large enough for five grown men, and a wide desk, as big as his futon, stands in the corner. When Stiles turns to the left, there is a human length mirror and a giant globe standing in the other corner. But no King anywhere nor any sight of The Man.

Stiles looks to his right, noticing the open door, to what is most likely is the balcony, and white curtains flailing in the wind. That’s where the King probably is.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Stiles quietly walks into the middle of the room and kneels. The rug beneath his knees is soft, which a small comfort to what awaits him.

Kneeling is also a preferable position for praying, so that’s what he does. He’s never been particularly religious, but better late than never, right?

His prayer is interrupted after a minute by the sound of nearing footsteps. They get closer, closer, closer, and soon Stiles sees legs in front of him.

He can feel his heart in his throat and in his stomach, his fingernails digging into the palm of his sweating hands.

“Stand up,” the gruff voice from above says and Stiles obeys.

He sees legs, then hips, the waist, chest and stubbly, familiar chin as he stands up.

Shocked, Stiles snaps his head up and looks straight into the familiar blue, green, grey eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So heeeeey
> 
> Thank you y'all for the support! It means the WORLD, you guys are the best
> 
> Also **important note** :  
> Male carries have an opening beneath their balls, that opens during pregnancy and closes after giving birth. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“What the,” Stiles says, looking around. “Where is the King? What are you doing here?”

The Man’s face is as blank as always, but Stiles can see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Stiles,” he says slowly, “I am the king.”

What? No, that can’t be right—

But now that Stiles looks back at everything, it makes perfect sense. Especially the garden and how he was staring at Stiles the whole time. Which means: he was flirting with the _King_. Oh, no, the _King_ was _feeding him_.

“But I was told that you are ugly and cruel,” Stiles blurts out.

In response, the King’s eyebrows go up.

Isaac, that bastard. Stiles is going to kill him.

“Did you know that I didn’t know who you were? I mean, before the garden, obviously,” Stiles asks.

“I was suspecting it, yes,” The King answers. “But it all became clear to me when we last saw each other.”

Stiles shuts his eyes. “Gods, I feel so stupid,” he moans.

Of all the people in the kingdom, he made a fool of himself in front of the _King._.

Stiles only starts thinking of his shit luck, when he feels a hand on his cheek and opens his eyes.

The King is smiling slightly at him. “You damn well should be,” he says and kisses Stiles.

And that’s when Stiles remembers why he is actually here.

The King’s hands are rough from sword fighting, but his lips are soft and hot on his. He kisses Stiles like Stiles is the one thing he needed in his life and now he’s finally found it and is savoring every moment of it. Stiles responds with the same passion, one hand grabbing the King’s hair while the other clutches his shirt. Stiles tiltst his head for a better kissing angle and the King makes a pleased sound. One of his hands is on Stiles’ neck, while the other slowly moves down Stiles’ waist towards his ass.

They separate from each other with a loud _smack_ and Stiles feels breathless and dizzy and hot all over.

“Majesty,” he whispers and the Kings kisses him again.

“Derek,” he murmurs back, “When we are together and alone, I want you to call me by my name. Derek.”

“Derek,” Stiles repeats.

“Gods, how much I wanted you,” Derek sighs and begins to kiss Stiles’ neck. When he reaches the hem of the tunic, he quickly takes it off and looks at Stiles.

“You are so beautiful,” the King whispers and takes a step back. “Go lie on the bed, Stiles and take those damn shorts and shoes off.”

Stiles does as he’s told while not taking his eyes of Derek. The man in question stands by the bed and quickly takes of his shirt, then his pants and shoes. He is naked and Stiles gets a full view of him. He is gorgeous, all tan skin and muscles, with little scars here and there.

And he is not small in any way.

Derek climbs up the bed and lies on top of Stiles. His hands and lips are everywhere and all Stiles can do is moan and sigh and whisper his King’s name.

They lie like that, only kissing and rubbing against each other for some time. Then Derek stops and takes something off the nightstand.

He puts Stiles’ feet apart and his oily fingers find Stiles’ hole. He lightly massages it. Stiles whimpers and Derek instantly makes a soothing noise. He kisses Stiles while his finger pushes inside and Stiles gasps into the King’s mouth.

It’s weird for a moment, but Derek is insistent and his kisses are making Stiles breathless and dizzy. Soon there are two fingers moving inside him and Stiles’ hips start bucking with every move.

Then there are three, and it feels _good._

“Are you ready?” Derek hotly whispers in Stiles’ ear.

Stiles nods and Derek moves a pillow under his hips. The King puts some stretchy thing on his cock first and oils it. He moves on top of Stiles slowly pushes his cock inside of him.

It is not pleasant. At all. The fingers felt good, but the cock is too much. Stiles makes a pained sound and Derek gently starts pressing kisses all over his neck.

“You are so good, Stiles. You can do this, I swear it will feel good. Just relax and I swear it will be good for you too,” he whispers.

The King slowly rocks back and forth and it hurts. It hurts and hurts and hurts, but then gradually it becomes better and, dare he say it, pleasurable.

“Told you it’d feel good,” Derek says. His lips are open, wet and red, his eyes dark and hungry.

He pushes forward at a different angle and Stiles feels like he discovered a whole new world.

He starts rocking his hips, wanting _that_   sensation again.

Derek understands him and moves his hips like Stiles want him to, his cock hitting that spot again and again.

Stiles loudly moans each time, feeling something building inside him with every thrust. He takes his cock and starts jerking off and that was exactly what he needed. He comes with a cry, his whole body tingling and vibrating.

“Yes, yes,” Derek grunts above him. He thrusts a couple of more times and then loudly moans, coming too.

Stiles was expecting feeling his release inside him, but there is nothing.

Derek pulls out and now Stiles sees why he hasn’t felt anything. Derek’s come is inside the thing that he put on his cock and he is taking it off.

The King lays beside Stiles, both of them panting fast. They don’t touch because both are too hot and sweaty for that. Instead Stiles turns over to look at the King and the King looks at him in return.

They don’t speak for some time, just stare at each other and pant.

But then Stiles’ curiosity takes better of him.

“What was that thing on your cock?” Stiles asks.

Derek chuckles. “I knew you would want to know. It’s a thing that keeps my seed away and that way doesn’t make anyone pregnant. It’s made of some fishes or animals bladder, I think. Deaton tried to explain it to me, but I wasn’t interested in whose guts I put on my cock.”

That’s how Jennifer is not pregnant. Derek doesn’t let her. Smart.

“But why wouldn’t you want anyone to get pregnant? Don’t you need an heir?” Stiles asks and then quickly adds, “Not that it’s any of my business, sire.”

Derek looks at him. “I thought you were smarter than that, Stiles. _Think_.”

Stiles flushes in embarrassment.

Okay, what reason could the king have for not wanting an heir?

A prince is a grant of stability, of legacy. It also means power to the one who gives birth to him. The future of the kingdom, it’s next King, in the wrong hands would be a disaster.

Oh.

“You don’t trust anybody enough with that kind of power,” Stiles answers.

Derek lies beside him with his eyes closed, but opens one eye to look at Stiles and closes it, once he gets the answer.

It seems like Stiles is dismissed, but he’s not sure.

He gets out of bed and put his see-through tunic on. Now that Stiles isn’t shaking with fear, he inspects the room more closely.

Everything around is in red, gold colors: the rug, the walls, the ceiling, the bed. There are a lot of books and scrolls lying around, which is the opposite of Scott’s room. On the ceiling, there is a painting of moon, sun, and stars. The colors are faded with time, the edges cracked, but it still looks lovely.

Stiles glances at the desk and notices something unusual on it. There is a small mirror, forceps among other instruments and jewelry lying on the table and, at the center of it, a ring. It’s not finished yet, but it’s definitely a ring. “You make jewelry?” Stiles can’t help but ask. “Yeah, it teaches me patience and accuracy,” the King answers. He’s probably making that ring for Jennifer, Stiles thinks, or maybe for his sisters. 

I want that ring, is a sudden burning thought. I want that ring to be mine.

“I’m sure it will be beautiful,” Stiles says. He crawls into the bed and the King lazily opens his eyes. He looks sated like a giant cat.

No, that’s not correct. A cat is a small creature for the King. He is not a cat. He’s a lion. A big satisfied lion, which finally caught his prey.

“You look like a lion,” Stiles says.

The King grins. “Oh yeah?” He purrs and his hand slides up Stiles’ leg. “Then what are you?”

“Uh,” Stiles stammers. All his thoughts are gone in an instant, he can only concentrate on that big calloused hand getting closer and closer to his cock.

The King flips Stiles on his back and lies on top of him.

“I think you’re a deer. A beautiful, elegant deer, with gorgeous brown eyes.”

It sounds oddly intimate and sexual. Stiles thinks he’s blushing.

The King grins and kisses him wet and filthy, like he’s trying to eat him.

They have sex again a second time, with Stiles giving Derek blowjob and Derek jerking Stiles off.

“I love your accent,” Derek says. He lies on his back, with one hand beneath his head. “Never heard one like yours before. ”

“My accent is fine,” Stiles argues, a little bit offended. He knows he has an accent, and a thick one, but it’s comprehensible, unlike others. “There’s this girl in the harem, I think she’s from Icelyn, and she talks like her mouth is always full. She sounds ridiculous! I know I shouldn’t be mocking her, but Gods.” Stiles sits up and tries to remember Icelyn-girl. “She talks kinda ‘ _Gof Ftiles you awe not fffunny. I dwon’t tawk like tfat_.’”

Derek chuckles and looks adorable, with his front teeth a little bigger than the rest and little laugh lines at the corner of his eyes.

This is how they spend the next hour, Stiles impersonating everyone he knows. At some point, it becomes a game of ‘Guess who?’, with Stiles impersonating people they both know and Derek trying to guess who is who. Stiles hadn’t had so much fun in _ages_.

“No, no, no,” Stiles shakes his head laughing. “Try again.” He becomes serious again and barks out. “ ‘ _This is not a joke, Biles! Now, swing your hips, swing your damn hips! I swear to Gods_ ,-’ ”

“Finstock!” Derek shouts delighted. “This is Finstock!”

Stiles stands on the bed like on a stage, while Derek sits on a chair near it. Stiles nods and starts laughing so hard it’s difficult for him to stand.

“What was Finstock teaching you?” Derek asks chuckling.

“How to dance, obviously,” Stiles answers and swings his hips. “I was not very good at that, Majesty.”

“What a shame,” replies Derek. He stands up from the chair and pulls Stiles down on the floor.

They stand very close to each other, Stiles in his tunic and Derek in his robe.

“I do have other talents, your Majesty,” Stiles mutters.

Derek hums. “Is that so?”

“Oh, yes,” Stiles says and kisses the King.

 

It’s six in the morning when Stiles finally leaves. Lady McCall came by two times during that night and both times was gently dismissed. After their last, third, round of sex, which was slower than the last ones, Derek fell asleep almost instantly on top of Stiles. He was heavy, but it wasn't uncomfortable. For twenty minutes Stiles lay like that, occasionally playing with Derek's hair, and then got up and left.

Unfortunately, six in the morning is also when everyone in the harem wakes up, so when he walks in, everyone is _staring_  at him. And they have everything to stare at: his tunic shows off all his hickeys, his lips are red and swollen, his hair a mess. He looks utterly debauched and everyone knows who did it to him.

“Stiles!” Lady McCall exclaims when she notices him. “Honey, you were gone for a _long_  time.”

“You mean Jennifer never stayed that long?” Stiles asks.

Involuntarily Stiles glances at the stairs. And there she is, in a bright pink dress, standing on the second floor looking at him with all the hatred of the world.

"I don't think I can answer that," Lady McCall answers. 

Stiles looks away. “Do I have to work today?” he inquires.

“No, honey, today is your day off,” Lady McCall tells him gently.

Stiles bows and leaves. He is exhausted and so, so sleepy he can feel himself swaying a little.

“Look who’s here,” he hears a mocking voice. Stiles turns around. It’s Erica and Isaac. Of fucking course.

“Well, seems like you had fun,” Isaac taunts.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Stiles barks out. He musters up all the energy he has left to become angry. “You lied to me! I thought I was gonna be killed, based on your stories.”

“Well, you obviously weren’t, were you?” sneers Erica.

“That’s not the point!” Stiles snaps.

Isaac rolls his eyes. “Grow the fuck up, Stiles. You shouldn’t have been so naïve. Of course we were going to lie to you, you’re our fucking competition. A harem is like a big dysfunctional family. We’re excited when the King picks someone, but we also hate them and envy them. Welcome to the family.”

With that, they leave, Erica throwing one last hateful look at him.

“Great, now I don’t have any friends,” Stiles mutters but he doesn’t have any strength in him to care.

He enters the bedroom, flops down on his mattress and instantly falls asleep.

He sleeps for eighteen hours.

~*~

The next day, everything once again falls back in it’s old routine, except everyone suddenly becomes interested in him.

He’s the hottest piece of gossip, on everyone’s tongue.

Finstock mocks him through all the lesson, misspelling his name like he always does. It is a nice constant, if Stiles thinks about it. 

However, the weirdest of them all is Scott.

“Look at you, tiger! Slept well? Feel _satisfied_?”

“Ew, sire,” Stiles makes a disgusted face.

“I didn’t know you had it in you!” Scott smiles so openly and happy at him, that Stiles can’t help but feel a surge of affection, but still, the subject is disgusting.

“Can we not discuss it? Please, my Lord?” he groans.

“Okay, I’ll go easy on you.” Scott claps him on the back. “Unlike my brother.”

The rest of the day is filled with innuendos and bad sex-related jokes. It could be worse.

 

At dinner, Jennifer sits at the common table, which is a rare occurrence. She usually eats alone in her room, like she does everything else.

She’s in a ridiculous orange dress (where the hell she even gets those), and there’s a ruby necklace around her neck. Stiles wonders if Derek made it for her.

Jennifer pointedly doesn’t look at Stiles and that speaks louder than any words.

There’s a loud crash near Stiles. He looks up and it’s Kira, who clumsily, as always, sits opposite him.

“Hi!” she says and smiles brightly at him.

“Hey,” Stiles smiles back.

“Everything all right?” she softly asks.  

Stiles nods.

“You don’t look all right,” Kira says.

“Your eyes betray you. I’m perfectly fine,” Stiles replies.

She looks at him for a second, then lets it go. “How’s your job going? Is the Prince,” she blushes, “nice?”

“Yeah, when he’s not making bad jokes. Have you,” Stiles glances at her, “met him?”

“No, only in passing,” she says avoiding his eyes.

She looks strange. Stiles remembers Scott’s weird order to befriend her and then his love confession.

“Oh my Gods!” Stiles whispers in shock. “You are who Scott’s in love with!”

“What? He said that?” Kira reddens. “I mean, uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You totally are!” Stiles is grinning, but then- “But how? You’re not in his harem, how did you manage to meet, let alone fall in love?”

“Stiles, shhhh!” She scolds him and looks around. “Everyone can hear us.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Everyone’s too busy gossiping about me, Jennifer, and the King. _Talk_.”

Kira checks her surroundings once more and leans in. “We saw each other when I was with Princess Cora in the gardens. I am Lady Cora’s servant and she loves spending time with the Prince. The Prince and I sort of noticed each other and began throwing glances here and then, and one day he wrote me a letter.” Kira smiles dreamily at that. “Now we send letters to each other whenever we can. Secretly.” She looks pointedly at him.

“Can’t you just transfer to his harem?” Stiles asks. Letter’s are romantic and stuff, but exhausting and impractical. He’s a man of action.

She stares at him in horror and shakes her hand. “No.”

“I genuinely don’t see the problem,” Stiles says.

“It is forbidden to have an affair, or exchange letters with other men without the King’s permission. We fear what will happen to us when the truth comes out,” Kira informs him.

She sounds serious and a little frightened, so Stiles doesn’t say anything, even though he thinks they are being silly.

“Hey,” he says, changing the subject. “So, you’re Princess Cora’s servant, so you must know where her harem is located, right?”

She eyes him warily. “Yes.”

“I need your help,” Stiles says.

~*~

Turns out, the Princess’ harem is near the Prince’s and inside looks exactly like it. The concubines curiously look at him, but he goes straight to the place he needs.

He knocks on the door.

“Come in,” the voice behind it says.

Stiles opens the door and enters the room.

“I need your help,” Stiles says. “Teach me how to become you. Teach me how to be on top of the damn triangle.”

Lydia doesn’t look amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH OMG
> 
> Thank you everyone, for your feedback, and kudos, and bookmarks and thank you for reading it in general. ILY<3
> 
> this chapter turned out to be way bigger than I thought it would be lol

“Excuse me?” Lydia says.

“I want to become you. I want my own room, servants, my own jewels. I want to sleep in a _bed_. I want to _matter_.” Stiles declares.

The thing is, when one is a slave, there is no such thing as ambition. You can’t get any higher, only lower and lower, until you finally die. 

Stiles was an obedient, quiet slave, because that is what you do when you want to survive. But here, in the harem, being quiet is the opposite thing from safe. If you want to be successful- you have to _shine_  .

He will fucking shine.

Lydia continues looking at him. 

“Princess Cora loves you, right?” Stiles asks.

That get’s a reaction from Lydia. She smiles falsely and stands up from the couch.

“Sweetheart, they could never love us. We can be their advisers, lovers or even friends, but never their loved ones.” She stands right in front of him, all cold and serious. “Now matter how pretty and smart you are, they can always find someone like you or better. Everyone could be replaced.” 

“How very optimistic,” Stiles replies.

"Optimism is for fools," Lydia fires back.

Stiles smirks. “Does that mean yes?”

She slowly circles him, inspecting every part of him. 

“You’re pretty,” she says, “but your beauty will only make you a concubine. To become something bigger, you will have to use your brain and courage. To rise up, you will have to make sacrifices. There would be as much as many ups as there would be downs. Are you sure you want to go down this path?”

Lydia looks him in the eyes expectantly. 

“Yes,” Stiles answers seriously. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She claps her hands. “There are some rules-“

“Of course there are,” Stiles mutters and Lydia sends him a glare.

“Never interrupt me!” she snaps at him. “Rules are important, Stiles, they keep everything in order. Rule number one is: avoid love. Do not fall in love, do not think he loves you. We’re slaves, they’re masters, always keep that in mind. 

"Rule number two: always keep your dignity. Don’t get emotional, don’t get into fights, don’t scream, don’t cry, don’t brag. It is not how the Favorite behaves.”

Stiles nods. Lydia sits down on the couch, with her back straight and chin high. She looks powerful and majestic and gorgeous. Stiles really does want to be like her.

“You must change your religion to the Lupe one, obviously. You can believe in your gods in private, but publicly you must believe in theirs.”

That’s not going to be a problem, Stiles was never religious.

“You must avoid real love, but you will have to fake one. Pretend that you love him, but don’t get clingy, none of that ‘ _if you can’t be with me, I’ll die_ ’ bullshit. Compliment them, they love that. Every member of the royal family likes to hear how great they are. However, don’t flatter them too much, otherwise it sounds fake and insincere. If the King will see someone else besides you- don’t act jealous, be calm, but cold. Make him miss you on his own.” She pauses thinking, then continues. “You will have to be good conversationalist, so study day and night. The more you know, the smarter you are- the better. Makes it harder to replace you. Bribe Finstock, so he will give you private lessons.”

Stiles nods, listening greedily to every word. 

“I think that’s it,” Lydia says. “I gave you what I could. Now everything else depends on you, Stiles.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says, then adds, “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything, sweetheart,” Lydia casually says and Stiles believes her. 

He turns to leave and when he reaches the door, Lydia calls him back.

“I almost forgot the most important rule: do not make enemies with someone from the royal family. That will make your life a thousand times worse. But you are too smart for that, aren’t you?”

Stiles nods and leaves.

  
All this time, Stiles thought that Jennifer was doing them all a favor, saving them from the cruel, sadistic king. He was planning on living safe, comfortable life as Prince’s servant and then marrying someone the Prince thought eligible for him. That was a nice plan, safe one, and he was almost happy with it.

But Stiles has met the King, before he even knew who it was, like the Gods themselves were giving him directions. And now, looking at Jennifer’s life, it doesn’t seem fair. He can do all the stuff that she does, but he still sleeps in that horrible, smelly, tiny room, while Jennifer has an entire _chambers_  for herself. 

He is smart, he is stubborn, he already caught the King’s attention.

He can do that. He just has to not fall in love with Derek. 

Easy.

~*~

The next night, the King requests Stiles again. Everyone is gossiping about that and the girls giggle when they wash him.

They dress him in loose big blue shirt that slides off his shoulder and black pants that sit low on his hips. Nothing is see-through, but he still looks slutty. 

When Stiles enters the room, the King sits behind his desk, working on the ring. He glances briefly at Stiles, then resumes to what he has been doing. 

“I never would’ve thought that your hobby is making jewelry, my Lord. You seem more like a hunting type to me,” Stiles says instead of greeting. 

“You probably thought I hunted little kids, when you were still under false assumptions,” Derek replies, without glancing at him.

Stiles blushes. Fucking Isaac.

“You are going to tease me about this forever, aren’t you?” he asks.

“At least until you will do something idiotic again,” Derek replies. “Knowing you, I won’t wait for long.”

“May I see your balcony, your Majesty?” Stiles says changing the subject.

“Yes, you may.”

Stiles pushes the curtains and opens the wooden door. The balcony is huge, he never saw one like that. It’s wide and long, with a roof and columns. There’s a couch, a small long table and some pillows around it. 

The most amazing thing about it, however,  is the view. The city is right there in the distance, shining just a little, and then lies ocean. Up close he sees the palace’s garden and one of the fountains. 

Stiles doesn’t know how long he stands there, with his hands on the rails, enjoying the fantastic view, but soon he feels strong arms on his waist.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Derek whispers in his ear and starts kissing lightly his neck. 

Stiles hums in response and titles his neck, to give Derek more access.

“I thought about you all day,” Stiles says.

“Oh yeah?” The King asks. “What have you thought about?”

“You know, sucking your cock, fucking, the usual.” Stiles answers and he sounds breathless even to his own ears. 

Derek’s erection is rubbing against his ass and Stiles humps back into it.

“I heard that, _ah_ , having sex in fresh air feels good, but, I would prefer, _mmm_ , the bed for now.” Stiles manages to say, while Derek’s hand squeezes his cock.

The King throws Stiles on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carries him to the room.

“Will we still continue translating Vavivian text?” Stiles asks. “We haven’t finished it.”

He feels good, his limbs heavy, his mind almost blank from pleasure. He lies on top of Derek, with his head on his muscular chest, fingers tracing patterns on it. 

“Of course,” Derek replies. “Only now we can finally mix business with pleasure.” He squeezes Stiles’ ass.

“I have doubts about us actually working in this bedroom. Especially with me being half-naked.” Stiles objects. “Maybe we should stick with the library, my Lord.”

Derek chuckles. 

“I certainly never had sex there before,” Derek responds.

Stiles tenses up. A sticky, heavy feeling in his chest spreads inside him, dumping his good mood instantly. Gone are the days of being just a translator. Now he is a glorified _whore_.

“There was something else I wanted to talk about with you,” Stiles informs Derek.

“Oh?” The King tenses up under him.

“It’s—I think it’s time for me to start living by your country’s rules and traditions.” Stiles says, propping on his elbow. “I need to leave my gods behind me in the past, since they don’t belong in my current life. Now I want to believe in what you believe, see the world the way you see it. It’s time for me to start my life anew.”

“Are you serious?” Derek asks him. He sits up and looks deeply into Stiles’ eyes.

“Yes,” Stiles confirms.

He is actually serious. He doesn’t care about his gods and he doesn’t think he will start caring that much about Lupe one’s, but he will not play on public. If he changes his religion, might do it all the way. 

Derek inspects Stiles for a few moments more and apparently becomes satisfied with whatever he finds, since he instantly starts smiling this ridiculous gorgeous smile of his. 

He puts on his rob and Stiles his pants. Taking his hand, he leads him to the balcony.

The floor is cold and smooth beneath their bare feet. There are two torches on the walls illuminating the balcony in dimmed soft light, the shadows framing the King’s stubbly jaw and cheekbones, making him even more regal. They stand by the rails in complete silence, with their hands locked, looking at each other, until Derek starts chanting something in ancient Lupe, while looking straight at Stiles. The world is quiet, except for Derek’s murmurs and the whole thing seems a little surreal and ethereal. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Gods themselves appeared right at this moment.

“The Moon, the Sun and the Stars bless you,” Derek finishes in modern Lupe and leans down to kiss Stiles on the forehead and then on his lips.

Now Stiles will have to study in depth Lupe religion.

~*~

“I met Derek today,” Scott tells Stiles the next day.

They are walking in the gardens together, side by side, like friends. It throws Stiles off a little, but he tries to act like that’s how it’s supposed to be.

“Are you going to make bad sex jokes again?” Stiles asks and quickly adds, “Your Highness.”

“My jokes are funny, the soldiers are always laughing at them,” Scott protests, looking genuinely offended.

“That’s because you’re the Prince and their master, of course they’re going to think you’re hilarious. Half of them can’t probably speak Lupe but think you’re witty as the Gods,” Stiles responds.

“You are a dick, Stiles,” Scott says. “However, I was gonna talk about the fact that you became a child and loyal slave to the Moon, Sun and Stars Gods.”

“Oh, yes, I believe I have,” Stiles agrees.

“Why have you decided to change your religion?” the Prince asks. From anyone else, it would’ve sounded like an interrogation, but Scott sounds genuinely curious.

“The old gods don’t fit into my new life,” Stiles simply answers.

The Prince nods in understanding.

“How are the rebels?” Stiles asks, trying to change the subject.

“They lie low right now. Definitely planning something.”

It’s a sore topic for him, so Stiles doesn’t press on it. They walk in silence for a few moments, before Stiles opens his mouth again.

“So, Kira,” he throws casually.

“What about her?” The Prince asks with a stony expression.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Stiles says. “Such a sweet girl. And quite pretty too. No wonder you’re in love with her, my Lord.”

Scott stops walking. “How do you know about that?”

He's gotta be fucking kidding. “You’re not really discreet, you know,” Stiles answers.

“Nobody else found out though,” Scott replies.

“Lydia did. Also, nobody else spends so much time with you as I do, my Lord. Not even your own mother,” Stiles points out. “You know, I find your romance cute and romantic. A bit childish, if I’m being honest, and quite ridiculous. You could solve everything just by talking to the King.” 

“Are you _out of your mind_?” Scott furiously whispers and looks around. “The King already done me a huge favor by not executing me, even though our laws say so. And now I’ve gone and fell in love with someone from his _harem_ , his property. That doesn’t look very thankful of me. He’s gonna think I’ll take his throne next or something like that.” 

“You don’t seem to have a lot of faith in your brother,” Stiles observes. Then he scowls, “What laws are you talking about?”

Scott pushes his hand through his hair. “The first king of the Lupe kingdom, when creating this country had stated that the one who succeeds the throne, should kill all his brothers, so that there would be peace and order in the kingdom. Everybody followed that rule for ages, but Derek refused to do it. He publicly claimed that he would never kill me, as long as I don’t rebel against him,” Scott explains. “I cannot betray his trust and I can’t afford to make mistakes. He swore to me and to the people, but the law still exists. He can change his mind.”

Stiles takes all information in. 

What a cruel, but politically smart law that is. How strategic, how clever, how brutal.

It must be horrible to be the sixth prince or so, Stiles thinks. Knowing that you live only as long as your father does. 

“I understand your caution, my Prince,” Stiles says slowly. “But if he loved you enough to break the law, he will forgive you for falling in love with his concubine. It’s not like she’s his Favorite or anything, he doesn’t even know her.”

“She may have been a gift from the King of her country,” Scott adds.

“Okay, yeah, that makes it worse,” Stiles admits, nodding his head. He pauses, then suggests, “Maybe if you marry her it will show him how serious you are.”

“There’s two problems with that. One, I have to ask permission from the King to marry somebody. And two, we don’t marry, we just have concubines,” Scott says.

“What? Why don’t you marry?” Stiles asks puzzled.

“We are a strong kingdom, so we don’t have to marry princesses from other countries for alliance. And marrying someone from the harem makes others jealous, plus gives too much power to a slave,” Scott explains, then adds, “At least that’s what the law says.”

They don’t say anything for a few seconds.

“We’re going to figure something out, my Lord,” Stiles finally reassures the Prince. 

He doesn’t know when they became ‘we”, when His Highness became Scott. 

But when Scott hugs him, Stiles decides it doesn’t matter.

Scott suddenly pushes Stiles away. “We should stop that, Derek will definitely chop my balls off for hugging his favorite concubine.” 

“You just totally ruined the moment that we were having,” Stiles says and adds. “Also, I’m not his Favorite, Jennifer is.”

Scott eyes him. “I don’t think she is anymore.”

Well, she still has her own room, while I sleep with twenty other people in the pile, Stiles thinks. 

They continue walking.

 

~*~

 

“See this? It’s a saying, it means ‘ _something very rare_ ’.” Stiles points out to the sentence and pronounces the saying in his own language.

Speaking Vavivian feels like opening an old, rusty door. It doesn’t open as easily as it used to and he has to try really hard to push it, but it’s not locked, he just has to try a little bit harder than before.

He probably has an accent in his own mother-tongue. The only thing that kept him from forgetting his language completely was the fact that he is stubborn, smart and literate.

When he feels like Vavivian is slipping from him, he recites the poems that his mother used to read him, down to every line. 

He figures, as long as his dreams are- mostly- in Vavivian, he’s all right.

“When did you learn Lupe?” Derek asks him.

The sit side by side in the library, their legs and forearms brushing against each other from time to time. 

“I think about four years ago?” Stiles replies. “I was living in the farm in one of your colonies. Half of the people there were speaking Lupe and that was…challenging. But the other slaves were helping me, teaching me. Lupe is a very logical language, I like that. It made it easier to learn.”

“You are very good,” The King says. “And your accent is very sexy.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not.”

The King let's it slide. “How many languages do you know in total?” Derek asks.

Stiles thinks about that. “Um, I guess about three or four?” He says uncertainly. “I’m fluent in three and have basic knowledge and commands of another one. However I’m only literate in one.” He pauses, then adds, “Well, two if you count that I’m studying Lupe.”

He looks at Derek, and he looks at him with something close to respect.

“Gods, that makes me so hot,” he says and kisses Stiles.

His kisses him hard, his tongue pushing as far as it can go. It’s wet, messy and hot, and Stiles loves every second of it. Stiles starts getting hard and Derek’s kisses, as well as his hands, start becoming more insisting. Stiles pushes himself away, putting his hand on the King’s chest.

“I think it’s best if we go back to Vavivian, Your Majesty,” Stiles says. “I could always come to you in the evening.”

Derek nods. 

Needless to say, Stiles did go to the King that evening.

 

~*~

 

“The parties are the best part of living here,” Finstock tells them, getting this dreamy look on his face. “I mean, there’s a lot of fucking work when there’s a celebration, but in general, it’s amazing. The harem room is decorated, the music is playing all day long, the royal family gathers and watches the show, that _you_ , my darlings, prepare for them. Only the lucky one’s, the most talented, of course, get the right to perform. The useless one’s service the royal family. There are dances, singing, musicians playing on instruments. The tables are full of food, sweets, wine…”

It seems like Finstock has forgotten that they are on the lesson. He wildly gestures with his hands, not looking at any of them, deep in his memories. 

He continues talking. “The luckiest one, the most talented, can get a chance to be with the King - he will throw handkerchief at the one he would like the most. Many concubines got lucky that way. That’s how Jennifer started out, you know.” He glances at their shocked faces. “Well, I guess you didn’t know that. But that’s not even the best part! At the end of the celebration, the royal family will throw gold from the stairs, so much gold that the floor would be covered with it. Wonderful times, wonderful!”

Finstock sighs dreamily, smiling a little. Then he blinks fast a few times and becomes his normal grumpy self again. “Okay, now back to the lesson…”

When the lesson is over everyone leaves the room chattering about something. Finstock collects a book and jumps a little when he sees Stiles standing by the door. 

“Biles? The fuck are you still here?” he asks.

“I, uh, I want to –to study more. I want more lessons,” Stiles stammers out, trying to sound confident. 

Finstock looks at him warily. “Why would you want that? Aren’t you busy with the King, darling?”

He always calls them ‘darlings’ in the most sarcastic, least affectionate way possible. If Stiles hadn’t known the translation of the word, he would’ve thought it was an insult.

“I am,” Stiles replies. “That’s why I’m here. I want to be on top of the triangle, like you said, but for that I have to be smart. I think, here they say that knowledge is power, yes? I’ll pay, of course, for the extra lessons,” he adds.

Finstock grins. “Ambitious one, aren’t you?” 

Stiles answers by looking straight at him with the most determined expression on his face. 

“Okay, okay,” Finstock says nodding. “I’ll see what I can do. However, if you really want for this to work out, you’ll have to gain access to the palace’s library, the books and scrolls over there. Can you do that, darling?”

“Yes, I think I can. Thank you.” Stiles bows and leaves.

He can cross that off his list.

~*~

The more time Stiles spends with Kira, the more he likes her. She’s sweet and awkward, perfect for Scott that way and is completely unsuited for the harem. 

She is in the middle of her story, when Derek’s messenger comes by. Stiles is standing up, when Lady McCall commands to one of the girls. “Tell Jennifer that the King wants her.”

Everybody kind of stops doing what they’re doing, looking at Stiles and then at Lady McCall.

“What are you waiting for?” Lady asks the girl, who hasn’t moved. “ _Go_!”

The girl bows and runs up the stairs. After a moment, Jennifer comes out beaming so brightly it hurts to look at her.

Stiles notices in strange satisfaction that her bright pink dress doesn’t suit her. 

She glances at Stiles and her smile becomes more toothy.

“I am ready, my Lady,” she says. 

Lady McCall nods at her.

The second Jennifer leaves the room with a guard and an eunuch, everybody instantly starts whispering. Erica looks almost happy, like it was her who the King chose.

“Don’t worry, Stiles, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Kira comforts him, patting his arm.

Stiles doesn’t really know what he’s feeling, there’s so many emotions inside him, mixing together.

 _Lydia was fucking right_.

A slave should not expect love.

“It’s all right,” Stiles says. He clears his throat and can’t really look anyone in the eye. “The King will come back to me.”

Kira’s face tells him that she really doesn’t believe that, but is humoring him anyway.

“No, I swear, you’ll see,” Stiles insists. “This is the last time the King will see Jennifer. From now on, it will be only me.”

They’ll all see. 

Jennifer comes back three hours later. They haven’t even gone to sleep yet.

Frankly, it’s embarrassing, considering Stiles spends almost all night in the King’s bedroom, but she looks so proud of herself, so smug, he could’ve thought that she got pregnant or something.

She sits on the pillow and loudly says to the girls that surrounded her, “The King said that he missed me endlessly. He wouldn’t stop kissing me, his passion was so big. Unfortunately, he will have a council meeting early in the morning, so we couldn’t spend much time together. We hadn’t left any second go to waste though.” She giggles. “He’s making me a ring, I saw it on his table. He said that ring symbolizes all his feelings and as a result, it will be the most beautiful of his creations.”

She glances quickly at Stiles, who was just going to the bedroom, but stopped on his way when he saw her.

Somebody asks her something, but Stiles is walking away already.

Jennifer’s speech is replaying over and over again in his head. 

Did the King really say that? Could he? He can easily imagine Derek cupping Jennifer’s little face in his hands and saying in that voice of his “ _I’ve missed you endlessly_.”

He can imagine them lying in the bed, their naked bodies intertwining with each other, Derek’s hands roaming her body, their clothes laying messily on the floor. 

Does Derek kiss her the same way he kisses Stiles? Does he pleasure her the same way he does Stiles?

His head (and heart, but he doesn’t want to focus on that) begins to hurt.

The words ‘I’ve missed you endlessly’ have to be bullshit, right? Derek doesn’t talk like that.

At least, he never talked like that to Stiles. Maybe he’s more gentle with Jennifer, more romantic.

Stiles closes his eyes and shuts the pictures in his head, instead focusing on the future.

That fucking ring would be his.

 

~*~

 

When the King’s messenger comes by the next evening and tells that His Majesty requests Stiles, nobody knows how to react. 

Lady McCall sends Stiles to the bathing room, where he is quickly washed and oiled. They dress him in a long, grey, silk robe and slippers. 

A eunuch, a guard and a messenger boy accompany him. The route starts the same way, but they don’t swerve to the hall in the right, the one that leads to the King’s chambers, but go to the left.

“Where are we going?” Stiles asks.

“The bathing room,” messenger boy answers. 

“But I’m already clean,” Stiles says.

Nobody responds to that. Eventually, they come to the wooden door, the guards open it and inside a hall leads to another door, also with guards on each side. They open the second door and Stiles enters. The door shuts close behind him.

This bathing room looks nothing like the one they have in the harem. In the harem, the room is small, too small for all forty of them, so they wash quickly and in turns. They shower huddled together in cold water and it’s not a pleasant experience, all in all. 

This room is _big_ , like anything royal is. There are showers down the wall, but also a giant bath in the center. Stiles saw baths before, and they were small, one person could barely fit in them, and they were round. This one is squared and so big, an elephant would fit in it, much less a person. There are dozens and dozens of candles all over the place, and a plate of fruits and wine on the side. 

The room is hot and humid, the air a little foggy with heat. Right at the center of the bath, with his hands stretched out on each side of it, sits the King. His black hair is damp and sticks a little to his forehead. His eyes light up when he sees Stiles.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says and his voice echoes in the room. “Do I have to wait for you ‘til the water gets cold? _Come here_.”

Stiles stares at him a little more, but then takes of the robe and the slippers. He gets into the bath, right into His Majesty’s naked lap.

The water is hot, but not hot enough to make it uncomfortable. They probably measure the water before the King baths, making it just the right temperature. 

Derek possessively puts his hands on Stiles’ waist, leaning up for a kiss.

Stiles pushes himself back. Derek scowls at that.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Stiles doesn’t speak. He remembers Lydia’s words about not acting jealous, but he can’t help it. The least he could do right now is not speak.

Stiles looks around, avoiding looking at the King’s face. The walls, he notices, have murals on them of naked women, men and carriers swimming in the ocean, kissing, playing, having fun.

Stiles hates the ocean.

“Is this about Jennifer?” Derek guesses.

“She said you missed her endlessly,” Stiles murmurs and finally looks up. “If you missed her so much, why did you call me for?”

“I didn’t say anything to her and I certainly haven’t missed her,” Derek casually replies.

“Then why did you call her?” Stiles asks flatly.

“Because it is within my rights as a King,” comes the hard reply, but then Derek’s voice softens a little. “You have to reason to be jealous, my alsaar.”

He starts prepping kisses along Stiles’ neck.

 _Alsaar_? That word Stiles does not know, never even heard of it. But he doesn’t want to ask what it is right now.

“It will always be better with me, your Majesty,” Stiles breathes out, his lips almost on Derek’s. 

Derek smiles and closes the gap between them. 

Stiles can taste wine, fruit and Derek himself in the kiss. His arms reach out and tangle in the King’s neck, their chests and cocks press against each other. Derek’s hands on his hips tighten and Stiles squeezes him a little with his legs. Derek makes a low sound on the back of his throat, his tongue licking into Stiles.

He takes his arm off Stiles’ hips and instead circles their cocks in his fist.

“Shit,” Stiles moans, breaking the kiss.

Derek watches him through his eyelashes, giving him lazy, hooded glance. His mouth is hung open, lips red, wet and shiny. He looks so hot that Stiles nearly comes just from the sight of him. 

They don’t kiss anymore, just rest their foreheads together and watch each other.

They watch how water makes their eyelashes stick together like little arrows, how they both pant and moan in each other’s open mouths, how there’s a blush spreading on their cheeks, necks and chests from the heat.

Stiles is the first one who comes, feeling too good from Derek’s calloused hands on his cock and the friction of his cock rubbing along his. 

While he shivers and caresses the King’s chest, Derek quickly jerks himself off too and comes a minute later. 

“We should use this bath more often,” Stiles says grinning. 

Derek softly kisses him.

After an hour, the slaves wash them and quickly leave. Stiles puts his robe back on and turns to Derek.

“I want to ask a favor from you, Majesty. I would like to study more, but Teacher Finstock said for that I’ll have to have access to the library and the books and I-”

“Of course, I will notify the guards.” Derek interrupts.

Stiles smiles. “Thank you, Derek.”

“You’re welcome, alsaar,” The King leaves, brushing a kiss on his temple.

Stiles goes back to the harem.

 

In the morning, when leaving the bedroom, he is greeted by Lady McCall. She smiles warmly at him, the corner of her eyes wrinkling. She looks too happy this early in the morning.

“Good morning, Stiles. Congratulations!” she says.

“Um, thank you?” Stiles asks confused. “What is going on?”

She gestures him to follow her. The room for favorites is open and they step inside. 

Inside, it looks exactly like Jennifer’s, only not inhabited. Around six slaves are cleaning everything, some washing the floor, some dusting the furniture, some making the bed.

There is also a large chest standing by the wardrobe.

“I don’t understand,” Stiles says, looking at Melissa.

“You are now officially the King’s Favorite. After the concubine has been with the King five times, they receive a new status,” Lady explains. “This room is yours and Finstock will give you lessons in private now. You are also not in the Prince’s service anymore, as you don’t have to work.”

That’s it, Stiles thinks. _He made it_. 

He has his own room, his own bed, his own wardrobe. He doesn’t have to work, he doesn’t have to go to classes anymore.

He is not a mere concubine anymore.

Nevertheless, he doesn’t _matter_. He may have his own room, but he knows he’s nothing but a new toy for the King. Next week someone more interesting than him can come, dance some fucking dance, and Derek will forget about Stiles.

No, the room is nice, but it’s definitely not enough.

The sky’s the limit, right?

“I am forever grateful to the King,” Stiles says. “Now, I think I’ll go brush my teeth.”

Lady McCall nods and Stiles bows.

Everybody is staring at him, when he goes down and brushes his teeth.

When he sits down for breakfast, Kira hugs him.

“Stiles, I’m _so happy_ for you! I didn’t think anyone could do it,” she chirps excitedly. “I thought Jennifer is our future, nobody stuck as long as she did. And now _look at you!_ ”

“Yeah, thanks.” Stiles smiles at her.

“Oh, maybe you’ll bear the heir! How amazing will that be?” she continues.

Her voice sounds especially loud, in the shocked silence and whispers of the harem.

“But you should be !!!very!!! careful. Jennifer is not the one who would sit back and take it, you know? She can literally kill you,” Kira warns him.

“Yeah, well I’m not defenseless either,” Stiles says.

“Let’s hope not,” a familiar voice replies.

Isaac sits down by their table.

“Why are you here?” Stiles asks coldly.

He’s not mad at him, more hurt than anything. Doesn’t mean he won’t act like it though.

“Wanted to congratulate you,” Isaac replies. 

Stiles raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Oh yeah? I thought you and Erica would be the one’s most upset by the news. Don’t you guys hate me?”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “I don’t _hate_  you. Erica kinda does, you stole her dream from her, but I didn’t, I was just being a good cousin.”

“So now that he’s important, you wanna be his friend again?” Kira interjects.

“I don’t wanna be his _enemy_.” Isaac says and looks straight at Stiles. “Maybe we’ll never be friends again, Stiles, but you have to understand that we’re not your enemy and we never were. It was never about you, it was about Erica having less competition. We all do what we have to, to survive in this place. And Kira is right, keep an eye on Jennifer. That bitch is _crazy_. ”

With that said, he stands up and walks away.

“You can’t trust him, Stiles,” Kira says as soon as Isaac leaves. “He’s just afraid you’ll seek revenge, now that you can.”

Stiles sighs. “Still, he’s right, Kira. It was never about hurting me. I knew them, I knew how much Erica wanted to be with the King. They were really nice to me, if you exclude the whole lying thing.”

They sit in silence for a few moments.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Stiles,” Kira finally says and they go back to eating.

 

When the breakfast is over, everyone leaves, while Stiles goes back to his room. It’s clean now, the slaves left some time ago. He looks around and notices his things from the main bedroom are already here. Which reminds him of the chest that he has waiting for him.

He sits down and with child’s giddiness opens it. 

It’s everything he has ever wanted: rings, necklaces, pins, as well as clothes. He puts the accessories aside and picks up the clothes. 

Before, the clothes that they gave him were simple, practical, made of cheap, but tense material. These new clothes are soft to the touch the way only nice material is. They would feel nice on his skin, not irritating it, definitely not itchy or prickly. 

However, as he takes out these shirts that is inside, Stiles notices a pattern.

They all are in ridiculous bright colors. All shades of pink, green, bright blue, yellow, orange, purple…They’re so bright, it hurts to look at them. If those colors weren’t enough, the shirts  _sparkle_ , shining under the sunlight.

So that means every time he made fun of Jennifer’s dresses, they weren’t her actual choice. 

“I see you’ve got acquainted with the Favorite’s life,” a voice behind Stiles says.

Lydia stands in his doorway, smirking at him.

“I heard the news and came to congratulate you,” she says and comes inside. Stiles still sits by the chest, with clothes and jewelry all over the floor. “You’ve made it, you have your own bed.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think it would include fucking rainbow shirts. I imagine unicorn’s vomit looks like them,” Stiles mutters and narrows his eyes at Lydia. She’s in a beautiful maroon dress, her radiant ginger hair in a casual but elegant bun. “You’re in the same position as I am, how come I’ve never seen you wear those absurd dresses?” 

She wrinkles her nose. “Not even my dead body will be seen wearing them.” She looks in disgust at the shirts. “Just- try to pick the one’s that are not so bad. The dark colors are good, the light one’s - well some of them- are nice too. But burn the orange one, immediately.”

“Why can’t they give us the normal one’s, like white or something.” Stiles says.

“Those are royal colors.” Lydia answers in an are-you-stupid tone of voice. “All pastel colors are royal colors, slaves can not wear them, even the Favorites.”

“How come I’ve seen Deaton wearing white?” Stiles asks, remembering the day he met the man.

“He’s a good friend of Queen Talia’s, was the best friend to the deceased King. Worked for the royal family all his life. They permitted him wearing white as a reward for his help and to show how much he means to them.”

Lydia sits on his couch, with her hands clasped together on her knees, her back straight. She looks like she owns this place and Stiles is the guest here.

“Why are you not here? In my place, I mean,” standing up Stiles asks. “You’re obviously gorgeous and smart enough to be the King’s Favorite, so why aren’t you?”

“Princess Cora saw me first,” Lydia curtly answers and that’s that. She obviously doesn’t want to discuss it.

Stiles sits down next to her and changes the subject. “Was there something you specifically wanted? I doubt that you just came by to say hello.”

“You have to be careful from now on, Stiles,” Lydia tells him in somber voice, her green eyes serious. “You got to the top, but you will have to stay there. If the King forgets about you for a long period of time, they’ll marry you off. Do whatever you have to, to stay where you are and pray that Jennifer won’t get pregnant.”

“Everyone warns me about Jennifer today.”

“That’s because she _is_ dangerous,” Lydia hisses. “She looks like a fool, but she isn’t. There was this girl, two years ago or so. The King, well, then a Prince, was very taken with her. She spent four nights with Prince Derek and then one day, she tripped down the stairs and broke both her legs. Her face was also scarred very badly, she couldn’t stay in the harem anymore. It most definitely wasn’t an accident, but there was no evidence. Jennifer became the center of the Prince’s attention once more.”

Stiles can’t believe this. Is Jennifer really that crazy, to push someone off the stairs?

“Thanks for the warning, I guess,” Stiles replies.

Lydia stands up and adjusts the skirt. “Come by, if you’ll still be alive, of course.”

She leaves.

Stiles doesn’t think she’s joking.

 

 

For the next hour, he busies himself by putting all those clothes and jewelry in the wardrobe, but once that’s done, there’s nothing for him to do. He doesn’t have to work anymore, so what now? What does Jennifer do all day? There would be a lesson with Finstock, but that would be only in the afternoon. Derek is obviously busy with the King’s duties, whatever that may be.

Stiles will probably need to borrow some books to have in his room in the future.

He glances at himself in the mirror and notes that he still wears his regular working clothes.He grabs a dark blue shirt and black pants. That would be his first outfit as a King’s Favorite.

After he’s changed, he looks at himself in the mirror. The new clothes feel nice on his skin, smooth, cool, not itchy in the slightest. His skin looks even paler in contrast with the shirt and from the certain angle the glitter on the shirt sparkles. He looks nice. What now though? 

He sits on the bed, then lays on it.

Gods, that feels _good._  Having a bed is fucking fantastic.

He closes his eyes and starts dozing off when he hears a knock on the door. Stiles abruptly sits up and clears his throat. 

“Yes, come in.”

He turns and sees bright lime Jennifer in his doorway.

“I came to congratulate you,” she says.

“Uh, thank you.” 

She looks around. “I’ve always wondered what this room would look like. It’s been locked as long as I can remember.” She shrugs. “Looks exactly like mine. How are you enjoying your new apartments? Feels nice to have a bed, doesn’t it?”

Stiles warily looks at her. She doesn’t _look_  dangerous, there’s no dagger in her hands or something equally sharp. She smiles at him like he is her old friend and talks to him like they gossip with each other every day.

“Yeah, a bed was exactly what I needed,” he responds and stands up.

They stand across from each other, him a little taller than her. It doesn’t stop Jennifer looking at him like he’s the lesser one. 

“Don’t get too used to it,” Jennifer says. “The King might find you interesting now, with your cute little accent and big cow eyes, but time will pass, he’ll get bored and will come back to where he truly belongs, like he always does.” 

She says all of this in the same quiet friendly voice, like they are taking about art or baking.

“And what will happen if he doesn’t? You’re going to push me down the stairs?” Stiles quips back.

“Don’t be silly, I never repeat my mistakes,” she says, winking at him and leaves the room, leaving the door open behind her.

Stiles blinks. Does that mean that she regrets pushing that girl down the stairs _or_ does that mean she will do something else to him?

Probably the latter.

Gods, is it really worth it to have himself killed because of the bed?

You know that’s not what all of this is about, Stiles thinks. It’s not even about surviving, not all of it. It’s about the power. 

Or, as crazy as that sounds, maybe Jennifer genuinely loves the King and she’s just jealous? Maybe she is heartbroken and lovesick? Could that be it?

Stiles remembers her eyes, how much venom and hatred they had, the cool way she basically admitted nearly killing someone. No, she is not heartbroken nor is she jealous. 

She’s just a crazy, power-hungry bitch. 

He should visit Scott.

Stiles locks the door behind him. The other person who has the key is Lady McCall, Stiles trusts her. She won’t give the spare key to Jennifer, he knows it.

When he gets to Scott’s room he feels the tension he had in his body leaving. He nods at the guards, takes a step forward to open the door, when they grab his arm.

“Sorry, but you’re not allowed to see the Prince in private anymore,” one of the guards tells him.

Stiles never heard any of then speaking until now, he thought they were deaf. Nonetheless that’s not what shocks him.

“What? What do you mean I can’t see him anymore? Why? I just saw him yesterday.” 

“That was before you were the King’s Favorite,” the other guard replies. “Now it is forbidden.”

“Why?” He asks.

“You’re a King’s favorite. No men are allowed to talk to you in private without the King’s permission.”

“You talk to me,” Stiles points out.

“And we shouldn’t,” the guard responds. “Go back.”

“That’s bullshit,” Stiles says disbelievingly.

The guards don’t answer. He has no choice but to go back to the harem.

So he can’t talk to Scott anymore? His other only friend besides Kira and he is forbidden from talking to him. 

Nobody told him that’s what it’s gonna be like. That’s the price of that fucking room. Loneliness and death threats. 

Don’t be an idiot, he thinks to himself. You knew it was gonna be hard, everything has a fucking price. Lydia told you, _asked_  you, if you were sure, if you were ready. You told her you were. The path towards greatness isn’t covered in roses. 

Stiles blinks tears away and finds himself in the Princesses harem. Must’ve took a turn.

He goes straight to Lydia’s room and without knocking comes inside.

Princess Cora looks straight at him from the cushions, sitting next to Lydia. 

“Who are you?” Princess asks him.

Stiles hurriedly bows and lowers his gaze. “Stiles, my Lady. I’m sorry for interrupting, I’ll be going no-”

“So you’re the one Derek is so interested in these days,” Princess interrupts. “Come closer, let me look at you.”

Stiles walks towards the Princess.

“You’re cute. Not as pretty as I was expecting, but I guess you have _other_  redeeming qualities,” Her Highness says. “They have to be _really good_ to put Jennifer on the back burner.”

Stiles doesn’t really know how to answer to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

“Stiles is very smart, your Grace,” Lydia says. 

“Not as smart as you, though,” Cora replies proudly.

Lydia smirks. “Nobody is.”

Cora smiles at her, then turns to Stiles. “Let’s pray to the Gods that this will last. And if the Moon wishes it, you will eventually be with child.” 

Lydia and Stiles mutter “If the Moon wishes it” in agreement. 

“Why are you here anyway, Stiles? I just saw you.” Lydia remarks.

Stiles hesitantly glances at the Princess.

“Either talk or get out, Stiles,” Lydia snaps.

“All right, all right, Gods,” Stiles huffs. “I wanted to talk to Sc-” he glances at the Princess “-to the Prince, but the guards told me I couldn’t.”

Princess Cora snickers and Lydia rolls her eyes. 

“I just said that you’re smart, but it seems I was mistaken,” Lydia says.

“I know that since I’m the King’s Favorite, it means there will be some restrictions. But I worked for Sc- Prince Scott before, and nothing’s happened, he’s definitely not gonna fuck me now. He doesn’t even like carriers, he prefers women. Nothing’s gonna happen between us, it’s stupid.” 

He’s getting a little desperate, but he can’t help it. 

Scott was his friend. Scott _is_  his friend. 

Lydia softens a little. “I know, Stiles, but that’s how it is. Rules are rules.”

“So what, now I will never see him again?” he asks. 

“If you’re with a guardian, you can. Someone who can vow that nothing will happen between you, someone with a higher status than you,” Cora says. “If you’ll give birth, you will be free from those restrictions again.”

“Why do you care so much anyway?” Lydia narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Are you in love with him?”

Stiles sputters. “What? No! Don’t be ridiculous. I have a King. It’s just- the Prince was really kind to me. He is a good person, I liked working for him.”

Cora smiles fondly. “Yes, that’s our Scott.”

So, he will have to have a guardian to just talk to Scott. It’s ridiculous. Not too long ago they were walking in the gardens together and now he can’t even see him.

“Thank you, my Lady, Lydia.” Stiles bows. “I’ll leave you now.”

They nod at him and he walks out of the room.

~*~

Finstock smiles broadly at Stiles, when he enters the room. 

“Look at you, all high and mighty,” Finstock says. “Didn’t think you’ll get here, if I’m being honest. But you did it, Biles, you did it!”

“Yeah, I’m awesome, can we move on,” Stiles quips back and puts his most confident voice on. “I want to study geography, from now on, and history and politics. I want to study the stuff the King will need, not a concubine. So no more fucking dances or sewing lessons. It’s time for the grown up classes. ”

Finstock laughs. “Bossy, I see. Okay, if you want it so much, we will.” He points at Stiles. “But when a concubine seduces the King with her sexy hips swaying, don’t go crying to me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “We’ll cross the bridges as we come to them. So, lessons?”

“Fine.” Finstock sits by the other side of the table. On the floor there is a stack of books that Stiles got from the library and a map.

Finstock opens the map. “Lupus Kingdom has four colonies…”

~*~

The lesson turned out way more interesting than anything before. They covered the main points in geography (how many colonies the Kingdom has, what part of the country provides what), began studying a little bit of history (from the First King and so on) and in the last continued with the writing and reading lessons.

“I still don’t know so much,” Stiles tells Finstock, while writing a sentence. “This Kingdom is different from anything I’ve ever known before.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Finstock says.

“What was the previous king like?” Stiles asks. “Derek’s father.”

Stiles often wonders what the man looks like each time he sees all his children. Did Scott get his jaw? Or Derek and Laura his cheekbones? Or Cora his lips?

He wants to meet the Queen too, the most powerful woman in the Kingdom. What does she look like? Who is she, as a person? Did she love the King? Did Lady McCall love him? Were they jealous of each other?

“King David was a very strong man, a warrior-king. Politics didn’t interest him, he loved the army, the battles. Wasn’t cruel, didn’t kill people just for the fun of it in daily life, but he was merciless in battle. Ironically enough, he died in his bed, of typhus.”

“Did he have any brothers?” 

“Yeah, three. Killed them on his coronation day,” Finstock replies causally. “He never really liked them to begin with.”

“So for centuries, hundred of years, kings killed their brothers? Didn’t they feel horrible? Don’t they miss them?” Stiles says.

It really struck a nerve with him, that law. He heard, of course, of people killing their families because of power, but there was something cynic and especially cold about the fact that here, they made a whole law, a fucking ceremony, of fratricide.

“Some of them do, some of them don’t. It’s not fun business for anyone, Stiles, not to the Kings, the siblings, the mothers, the servants. It affects us all, but there is a reason the law was invented.”

Stiles nods seriously, then narrows his eyes. “Hey, you said my name right. You totally knew it the whole time, didn’t you?”

Finstock turns at the door. “Well, look at that, the time flies by! I must go and you write an essay on the theme My Life in the Harem. Bye!” With that, Finstock opens the door and hurriedly runs out of the harem.

“We will meet tomorrow, coward!” Stiles yells at him from the stairs. 

Everyone turns their heads at them. 

“What do I do now?” Stiles mutters to himself.

He turns around to walk to his room and sees Jennifer by the entrance of hers. 

She smirks at him, then walks inside and closes the door shut.

She’s so creepy, Gods.

 

~*~

 

The King, not surprisingly, asks for Stiles in the evening. 

His clothing are still prepared by Lady McCall and this time, it’s a weird choice. Red velvet tunic and black breeches are waiting for him to put on, which he does. 

The clothes are normal. They’re still easy to take off, but they’re not erotic, he can wear this in daily life. That freaks Stiles out, because there has to be a reason, there’s a reason to everything here.

“Is it really the King who asked for me?” Stiles asks Lady McCall.

She looks at him. “Who else would it be? You’re the King’s Favorite.”

“Yes, but I look normal, not like a whore in the market, which is how I usually look like,” Stiles says, and has a sudden panic thought, “What if it’s Jennifer? What if that’s her plan to kill me?”

Lady McCall puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “The King personally talked to me and asked for you. It’s not Jennifer, relax.”

“How can I when the witch is out there!” Stiles hisses.

“Take him to the King,” Lady McCall says to the eunuch, apparently done with him.

Stiles is escorted out. He sees Jennifer on top of the stairs, like always. She’s not smirking this time, instead there’s so much hatred on her face Stiles could drown in it.

The hell with it, Stiles thinks and as he approaches the door, he turns around, looks up and shows Jennifer his middle finger.

He turns around and doesn’t see her expression.

There’s a strange mix of fear and relieve in him. He’s more scared for his life than before, she’s definitely gonna kill him now, but he also feels _good_.

The bitch deserved it.

He’s lightheaded all the way to the King’s chambers, feeling like a child, so joyful he’s grinning the entire way.

Which is why he doesn’t notice a figure in the dim-lightened corridor to the King’s room. 

“Well hello there, darling,” a male voice drawls out. His ‘darling’ sounds just as sarcastic as Finstock’s, but much more filthy. 

The man in question is handsome, with striking blue eyes and slicked back hair. He grins wolfishly at Stiles, giving him a slow once-over. Stiles’ hair on the back of his neck stands up. There’s something off with this man.

“Aren’t you a cutie?” the man says. “Completely Derek’s type: the eyes, the pale skin, the moles, _the lips_. Too bad he saw you first.”

“And you are…?” Stiles asks quietly.

The man smiles. “Oh, how rude of me, my apologies. My name is Peter Hale, I’m the King’s uncle.”

Stiles bows, all too happy not to look the man in the face anymore. “A pleasure to meet you, my Lord.” 

“Oh, _the pleasure_ is all mine,” Peter Hale purrs.

“I’m afraid the King waits for Stiles, my Lord, we must go,” a eunuch on Stiles’ right flatly says.

“Sorry, sorry,” not sounding apologetic at all says Peter. “Hope we’ll see each other again, Stiles.”

He walks away and Stiles feels like he can breathe again.

If he thought Jennifer’s creepy, she has nothing on that man. He looks like someone who will hug you, only to stab you in the neck once you’re close to him.

All his happiness from before vanished and now Stiles is more scared than ever. Hopefully, he won’t see that man for a long time, if ever at all. 

The guards open the door for Stiles, he shakes off his previous feelings and comes in.

There’s a round low table filled with food in the center of the room. On it there are two candles, two plates, two cups, two of everything. Derek sits on one side and looks up beaming at Stiles.

“Hello, my alsaar,” he greets Stiles.

There it is, that word again. However, that’s not the greatest mystery here.

“Derek, what is this?” Stiles asks, hesitantly walking towards the table.

“Don’t look so scared, Stiles, sit down. It’s just a dinner,” Derek replies.

Stiles sits down. His plate is filled with food and if he had to guess, the cup is probably filled with wine.

“Why are we having dinner?” Stiles inquires, taking a sip.

Yes, it’s red wine.

“Why not?” Derek responds. “Despite what you think of me, my mind is not always filled with sex.”

“Forgive me, Majesty, I’m just shocked,” Stiles says and smiles.

“How’s your new accommodations? Do you like it?” Derek asks and takes a bite of meat off his fork.

“I love them!” Stiles smiles brightly at the King and takes a bite himself. “I’ve never had an entire proper bed in my life, I’m going to sleep the shit out of it.”

They spend the entire dinner talking, telling each other about the day, and then the past. Stiles laughs a lot, loud, not containing himself. Derek laughs too, and looks incredibly good while doing it, the bastard.

They move to the balcony on the couch some time after, both a little tipsy on wine. The night is warm and quiet. The city is nothing but a dark shadow in the distance, and so is the ocean. It feels like they’re the only people awake in the world and the sun will never rise. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Derek suddenly says, gets up from the chair and enters the room.

Stiles watches his ass from the couch. It’s such a great ass.

“Should I come with you?” Stiles asks Derek loudly, while the latter does something inside the room.

Stiles can’t see him because of the damn curtains.

“No, I’m almost- done!” Derek announces. “Close your eyes.”

Suspicious, but okay. Stiles obeys. 

He can hear Derek coming back inside and sitting beside him.

“My beautiful alsaar,” Derek murmurs and takes Stiles’ hand.

A cold, smooth something is on his finger. Stiles quickly opens his eyes.

It’s a ring. A beautiful ring, with a giant teardrop shaped ruby the middle and little round diamonds around it.

“It beautiful,” Stiles whispers, his voice shaking a little.

He got rings in the chest, but all that jewelry didn’t feel personal, the same way the clothes weren’t. They were standard, luxurious, but neutral, impersonal. He bets Derek haven’t made those.

“I was working on it for the past few weeks,” Derek says. “Spend a lot of time on it.”

“Jennifer said you were making a ring that symbolizes your feelings. Was she right?” Stiles asks.

“Every piece of my jewelry reflects my feelings. I don’t make them for everybody and I don’t make them without a reason,” Derek answers solemnly. “It feels like this ring was waiting the entire time for you, my alsaar.”

“Okay, what is that? You keep calling me that and I don’t even know what the word means,” Stiles asks, annoyed a bit. “I’m guessing by your tone it’s a good word. At least I hope it’s not an insult.”

Derek chuckles. “Smart Stiles doesn’t know everything, does he? How does that feel?”

“Oh, shut up.” Stiles punches the King lightly on the chest. “Seriously, what is it? The word is driving me _crazy_.”

Derek shakes his head laughing. “Oh no, it’s too much fun. I won’t tell right now.”

“Derek,” Stiles whines. “That’s not fair.”

“I am the King, I can do whatever the fuck I want,” His Majesty tells him. “And in this moment, I want to feel good about the fact that you don’t know something.” He looks at Stiles’ hand. “I also want you completely naked, except for that ring, on my bed.”

Stiles’ cock stirs. He clears his throat. “Yeah, that can be arranged,” he says faux-nonchalantly. He’s doing a bad job of it, judging by Derek’s grin.

They run to the bed, laughing and kissing.

I have the ring, Stiles thinks. 

It’s nothing special, really, but somehow feels significant. Out of everybody, Derek picked him worthy of his ring, of the work and effort he’d put in it.

Stiles doesn’t know what that means yet, what it must symbolize, but he knows one thing for sure: he’s stopped being just a new face with that ring. It opened a new door for Stiles.

Shit is about to get _serious_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments mean the world to me, I read each and every one of them and they all make me want to be better, so thank you so much!
> 
> Lemme know if you'll see any mistakes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU  
> Thank you so much for your kudos and kinds words!! I read them all and they warm my heart every day. Thank you, you guys!
> 
> This chapter was originally finished a while ago, but then I decided that a middle part looks bad and completely rewrote that. Took more time that I thought it would lol.
> 
> Again, G., much love<3  
> K. thank you too~
> 
>  
> 
> **Important note!!!**  
>  **Vather- a word I made up for male carriers, means "father". Formal word. Informal, the carriers are 'papa' and regular men are 'dads'.**

The ring, of course, makes everybody crazy during breakfast. Everyone looks at it, touches it, like they can’t believe their eyes and have to feel it to make it real.

“Tell us everything!” they say to him.

Almost forty people look expectantly at him.

“Uh, His Majesty took the ring and then gave it to me. That’s the story,” Stiles tells them.

And then there was a lot of sex involved, he doesn’t finish.

Everyone looks very excited and starts hushing about that. Nobody’s touching their breakfast except for a few people.

Everything stops once Jennifer comes down the stairs.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

It feels like the room has frozen. Complete silence falls, like everyone is too afraid to move or breathe.

Jennifer coldly scans the room, until her gaze lands on Stiles. She appraises him silently, trying to detect what’s wrong. Then finally sees _it_.

“Where did you get it?” she demands.

“His Majesty gave it to me.” Stiles lifts his chin, trying not to look as afraid as he feels.

“You’re lying,” she seethes.

He stays quiet, knowing his silence will speak more than words would.

“That was _my_ ring!” Jennifer hisses.

“Who told you that?” Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Because it’s sure as hell wasn’t the King.”

Jennifer looks like a feral animal, her eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, lips a thin white line. An angry cat, ready to scratch his eyes out.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move an inch, then turns around and hurriedly runs off to her room.

There’s a few seconds of silence after she closes the door, then it’s a waterfall of gushing, whispering and gossiping.

“Man, it’s getting more interesting and interesting here everyday,” an amused voice to Stiles’ right says.

Of course it’s fucking Isaac.

“I’m glad my life is so amusing to you,” Stiles tells him.

He shrugs. “I’ve warned you. So now I’m just enjoying the show.”

Stiles fiddles with the sleeves. “Does Erica still hate me?” he tentatively asks.

“It annoys her that she was here much longer than you and yet you got what she wanted within the first months of being here,” Isaac replies and flicks a little smile at Stiles. “She’ll come around.”

Stiles nods.

 

~*~

 

The days pass by uneventful. Stiles still doesn’t know what ‘alsaar’ means, as Derek forbidden anyone telling Stiles the translation and further driving Stiles into madness. Jennifer is being suspiciously calm and peaceful and there’s a bet in the harem, on what she would do to Stiles.

“Mostly everyone thinks she’ll poison you, because that’s easy and not messy, you know?” Kira tells him, while they’re sitting in Stiles’ room.

He hums. It’s not really fun discussing how someone will murder him, but he’s really bored these days.

“Isaac thinks it’s too obvious though,” Kira continues. She sounds weirdly passionate about this. “He thinks she will do something far more clever, something that takes a lot of planning. I see his point of view, Jennifer’s not an idiot; if you’ll fall dead after the dinner, everyone will think of her. She has some card up in her sleeve, I can feel it.”

It’s like his life isn’t even real anymore. He isn't a character from a tale. That's literally his _life_ they're talking about. 

Stiles has had enough of this discussion. “Have you heard from Scott?” he interrupts.

Kira shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Stiles. He’s really busy with the army, I haven’t heard from him in days.”

He sighs.

He hasn’t heard from Scott either, and starts to think that maybe he imagined their friendship? Maybe the Prince was just being nice?

A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts.

“The King wishes to see you. The bathing room is ready for you.” Lady McCall announces.

Kira and Stiles stand up.

 

There are two men in Derek’s room. One is big and wide, his skin dark, strong looking, like a soldier. The other has sharp cheekbones and looks pretty enough to belong in the harem himself. Both of them look important and rich.

“Hello, my alsaar,” Derek greets Stiles. Stiles bows. “Meet my most-trusted advisers. This is Lord Boyd, my Chamberlain and right hand,” he points at the big man. “And this is Lord Whittemore, my most-trusted adviser in the council.”

Stiles bows slightly at them. He’s so glad that he is wearing normal clothes tonight: black breeches and dark blue satin shirt. Kira says the latter makes him look almost fey, his skin milky in contrast to the dark blue. Stiles thinks she’s full of it.

Derek smiles proudly at him. “And this is Stiles, my Favorite.”

Lord Boyd smiles at him, a little condescending, but he’s a lord. That’s how they all smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Stiles.”

Lord Whittemore purses his lips, his expression openly hostile, but mutters through clenched teeth, “A pleasure to meet you.”

Something crawled up in the ass with that one, Stiles thinks.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow,” Derek says to his friends, they bow to him and leave the room.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Stiles kisses the King.

“We should have dinner first,” Derek says through the kiss.

“Mmm, should we?” Stiles kisses him again.

“Yes, we should,” Derek pecks Stiles and leads him to the table.

Once they are seated, Stiles begins tentatively, “So, it was nice to meet your friends. What are they like?”

“Why, want to seduce them?” Derek dryly asks.

“Oh, you think they’re any competition?” Stiles retorts. “Must be someone really special to compete with the king.”

Derek smirks. “Whittemores were with my family since the begging, since the First King. They had helped to write the law and since then that’s what they do. You could say Whittemores _are_ the law itself. Boyd was with me all my life. We grew up together, his parents worked in the palace. He’s the one person I trust most in the world, my best friend.”

Stiles listens quietly, nodding along.

“I always wondered who’s the best friend of the King. I’m glad to have met him,” Stiles says and looks Derek in the eye. “You can trust me too, you know. I swear I will keep your secrets till the day I die.”

Derek stops eating and looks solemnly at him. He doesn’t say anything, just nods at Stiles and they resume their dinner, like something big haven’t happened right now.

The moment feels enormous, too big to fit in any emotion or describe in any words.

 

~*~

 

When Stiles comes back, Scott and Lady McCall are waiting for him in his room. It’s two in the morning, the harem is quiet and dark, except for one candle in Stiles’ room.

“Gods, I thought you were never coming back,” Scott says, while Stiles stares at him in surprise. The Prince wrinkles his nose, “You reek of sex. You actually _look_ like the definition of sex. That’s far more than what I wanted to know about my brother’s sex life.”

Stiles glares at him. “Then it’s probably wasn’t the smartest move to see me the night he requests me,” he snaps.

He’s annoyed at Scott, but also very happy to see him too. The jerk did pick a wrong time to see him though.

“Why are you here?” Stiles asks irately. “We can’t talk, and yet you stand in the room of the King’s Favorite, in His Majesty’s harem, in the middle of the night. Doesn’t that break at least ten palace laws?”

“It breaks so many laws that if it was someone else in our place they would’ve lost their heads,” Lady McCall calmly answers. Stiles blinks at her in surprise. He forgot she was in the room as well. “However, since I am here, it’s not as bad.”

“That doesn’t sound comforting at all,” Stiles says.

Scott smiles his sweet smile at him, “I’ve missed you, buddy.”

Stiles did too. He hesitantly smiles back at Scott.

“I’m glad you became the Favorite. You deserve nice things. Though I’m sad we can’t talk anymore,” Scott says, “I would try to communicate with you-,”

“I hope it would be more subtle than this, my Lord” Stiles can’t help but to remark.

“-but we’re both gonna be a hell more busy now,” Scott continues, glaring at Stiles. “The rebel thing is getting more and more serious. You should do everything you can to make Derek happy and relaxed, his days will be stressful and exhausting the next few…” he waves his hand, “...till we defeat the rebels.”

Stiles nods. “I will.”

Scott pats him on the shoulder and they look at each other for a second.

Take care, they say without words to each other.

Stiles nods once more and bows. Scott and his mother leave the room.

 

~*~

One of Stiles’ favorite things about Lupus Kingdom is the weather. It’s warm eight months a year, and the remaining four are cool, but not cold. One should probably wear a scarf, but not a fur coat. Snow is a rare occurrence, although not an impossible one.

In one of the endless warm sunny days Stiles get’s called to the gardens again.

As soon as he steps outside, he stops and takes a second to bask in the sunshine and feel gentle ocean breeze play with his hair.

Once, he was working outside almost every day- now it’s a luxury.

The servant takes him to the far field and it’s not a romantic date, like Stiles was expecting.

Derek and Scott in white shirts and black breeches have a sword fight in the middle of the field. Their movements are quick and practiced, their faces sweaty and happy. A tent stands on the side, with an armchair and a lot pillows beneath it, waiting for their owners. Slaves and servants surround the field, but Stiles quickly spots Lord Whittemore and Lord Boyd among them and comes up.

“Good day, my Lords,” Stiles bows.

Lord Whittemore doesn’t even glance at his direction, but Lord Boyd greets him politely in return.

Nothing is said for a few moments, then Lord Whittemore opens his mouth.

“It was unnecessary to bring his whore here,” he mutters. “Unless he plans to fuck him right in this field.”

Lord Boyd snorts, but admonishes him, mock-seriously, “Be nice, Jackson. He may be your future King.”

Lord Whittemore throws a withering glance at Stiles, “He’s nothing more but an over glorified whore.”

It feels like he’s been slapped. Stiles stands there, looking at them, not believing his ears. They talk about him like he’s not here, standing right next to them, like he’s deaf or stupid. As if he’s not a _person_.

It’s humiliating.

He can feel his throat tighten, in anger or shame, he doesn’t know.

“I guess, you think of Queen-Mother as a glorified whore too, my Lord?” Stiles casually asks Lord Whittemore.

He blinks at him in surprise, not expecting Stiles to talk back, though his expression quickly turns into a familiar sneer.

“Watch who you talk to,” he growls.

“Or what?” Stiles lifts his chin defiantly. “What will you do to me?”

“You think you became a Favorite, and now you’re untouchable?” Jackson growls, disgust coloring his voice. “Replacing you will be the easiest job I’ve ever done, considering you’re not even that pretty!”

“I dare you to try,” Stiles retorts viciously.

Lord Whittemore opens his mouth to say more, but Lord Boyd elbows him hard on the side, quietly hissing, “Not now.”

Indeed, Derek and Scott come to them. They both look exhausted, their sweaty shirts clinging to their bodies, with the happiest smiles Stiles has ever saw on anyone.

“My alsaar!” Derek exclaims and presses a kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

Stiles bows. “My Lords.”

The King leads them to the tent and sits on the chair. Lords and the Prince sit down on the pillows, while Stiles and the other slaves stand beside them. Men are immediately brought water and two slaves at the side start blowing the fans, made out of what seems like peacock feathers.

Derek looks at Stiles. “Come, sit by my side,” he gestures to the pillow near his chair.

Stiles obediently sits and a cup of water is immediately handed to him.

“I wanted to see the people I love gather together,” Derek says. “With the rebels, it seems like we would not have days like these anymore for a while.”

“We would destroy them, Derek, and days like today would be endless,” Scott confidently assures him.

“With you as a Commander, I doubt it,” Derek replies, taking a sip of the water. His tone is dry, but his eyes crinkle with humor.

Scott makes a silly face, Boyd chuckles. Jackson doesn’t seem as relaxed as they are, but not as tense either.

“Should we discuss it in front of the slave, your Majesty?” Lord Whittemore remarks, throwing a glance at Stiles.

Derek arches his eyebrows. “You think Stiles may be a spy?”

Jackson shrugs. “We have not known him for long.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to let an enemy in my bed?” Derek asks, his voice becoming dangerous.

Scott frowns at Lord Whittemore. “Stiles has served under me for some time and I have never seen him do anything suspicious,” he comments.

Both Prince and the King look judgingly at Jackson, but he only squares his shoulders and goes on, “I do not wish to offend you, Derek. I’m just saying that we could never be too careful with such delicate matters.”

Boyd silently watches them, his expression blank.

“I know you mean well,” Derek says flatly, “but do not think me a fool, leading his decisions by his cock.”

Stiles has never seen Derek so cold and so imperious. It sends a shiver down his spine, an unpleasant one.

During the first days of knowing the King, Stiles was scared of him because of how angry the man could get with the text and the Vavivian language. Stiles could sympathize with that, it was a natural emotion that came from frustration, it was _human_. Now, seeing Derek like this, high and regal on the throne, he does not seem like a person, like a human being - instead he’s live embodiment of power and monarchy.

Lord Whittemore seems to think that as well, because he casts a hateful glare at Stiles, like all of this is somehow his fault, and bows with his upper torso to the King in a silent apology.

Satisfied with that, Derek changes the subject. “Have you seen me sparring, Stiles?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Stiles tries to say it casually and lightly, squashing down his fear, not letting it show in any gesture.

“What do you think then?” Derek asks.

“Uh-,” Stiles falters, “I’m afraid I do not know much about sparring, my King. I am sure, however, that you are the best fighter there is.”

“Smooth,” Scott says under his breath.

Derek smiles and pats Stiles gently on the head, like one would do to a dog that performed a trick right.

He snaps his fingers at the servant, “Fetch us some fruit.”

They sit like that about half and hour, the men discussing some light-hearted topics, laughing and teasing each other. Even Jackson relaxes and laughs a couple of times, his earlier accident forgotten. Stiles doesn’t say much, as he has nothing to add and doesn’t really think he has any right anyway.

He is not one of them.

However, it is interesting to see the King in a normal setting, being just a man, having fun with his friends.

He endlessly teases Scott, the way older siblings do to the younger one’s, and The Prince doesn’t take any of his shit, snapping right back.

Lord Whittemore is an asshole, but Derek can be asshole right back and he somehow softens Jackson’s hard edges, making his jokes not as mean, as they could be.

With Boyd, the King seems to synchronize on every level, it’s almost as if they can read each other minds. They get each other humor completely and seem to know what the other is thinking before one says it. If Stiles had not known that Lord Boyd is not Derek’s type, he would have been scared of the competition.

Their carefree hour (and a half) is interrupted by a servant, who whispers something to the King’s ear. Derek somberly nods.

“I’m afraid the king’s duty awaits,” he announces. “I will see you in a meeting in an hour.”

Dismissed, the Prince and the lords silently bow and leave.

The King stands up and so does Stiles.

“You were quiet today. It is unlike you,” Derek murmurs to Stiles, cupping his face lightly.

“I do not have interesting stories to share, Your Majesty.”

Derek kisses him, lightly on the lips. “I’ll see you soon,” he says and leaves.

Stiles bows.

 

~*~

 

Lupus Kingdom was a mystery to Stiles, who only ever heard something about this country from gossip and rumors, which are not a reliable sources. So many things are different from what he is used to, the rules are unlike anything he had heard before. 

Like the slaves, for example. In Lupus Kingdom any slave could be freed by their master and get promoted to a higher position. Some of the councilmen are lucky ex-slaves, ambitious and smart enough to be freed. Vice-versa, any noble could be stripped of their power and thrown into a life of poverty. Nothing is secure.

Ultimately, slaves give birth to the future Kings of this kingdom. They are freed immediately as their sons ascend the throne and are given title of Queen-Mother or King-Vather. Before, Stiles has never heard of a Kingdom, where slaves had that kind of power.

It must be humiliating to the noble families, to know that they have to share the council with the same men who once cleaned horse’s shit. It must be embarrassing to bow to the person whose only privilege was being fucked by the King and get pregnant.

Stiles thinks about Lord Whittemore, whose family was at the top with the royals since the begging of times. _You could say Whittemores are the law itself,_ Derek has said. The future Queens and Kings are probably nothing but slaves to them since the very beginning til the end. The current Queen-Mother might just be nothing but an over-glorified whore to them still.

Stiles looks at Finstock. “Where has Queen-Mother came from? Where was she captured?”

Finstock gapes at him. “ _Captured_? Are you _out of your goddamn mind_?” He looks deeply offended and shocked, then throws a careful look at Stiles, “Oh, what am I asking. You, darlings, come here empty headed, like children who grew up in the wild. No common knowledge…”

“How is heritage of the royal family common knowledge-?”

“Shh!” Teacher Finstock shuts him up. “You fool. Queen-Mother, as her brother Lord Peter, come from the royal line of Baskaria, the brother-kingdom of the Lupus. They come from the same roots, hence Baskaria’s royal family being distant relatives to Hale dynasty. If for some reason Hale line would stop, Baskaria’s would be the potential candidates for the throne. Queen Talia, then just a Princess, was gifted to King David as a symbol of loyalty and further good relations. Lord Peter came as her bodyguard. ”

Stiles furrows his brows thinking. “Isn’t he a Prince? Shouldn’t he ascend Baskaria’s throne?”

“He’s a bastard.”

“Oh.”

Stiles thinks it over. Now _that_ changes some things.

“What about Lady McCall? Is she some kind of royalty too?” he asks.

“Oh no, she was a regular slave, came from one of the colonies, as did Lady Maria.”

 _Aha_.

“Is that Cora’s mother? I assumed that Cora was from another woman, but I did not know for sure,” Stiles confesses.

Finstock palms his face, shaking his head. “Completely empty headed,” he mutters under his breath. “Princess Cora’s mother was Lady Maria, who died during labor. Queen-Mother was kind enough to raise the girl as her own. Incredible woman.”

Stiles leans excitedly over his desk, biting his lip. “Who did King David like the most?” The question has been bugging for quite some time.

“That is an inappropriate question, Biles,” Finstock scolds him. Then whispers: “Lady McCall.”

“I knew it!”

A knock on the door interrupts their discussion.

“Come in,” Stiles says.

A servant girl enters. “Teacher Finstock, you told me to inform you when Princess Laura arrives. She has arrived ten minutes ago.”

Finstock grins. “Ah, yes, great! You may go.”

The door closes.

“What? She left?” Stiles asks, puzzled.

Once again, Finstock stares at him with wide eyes. “Yes, she left. A while ago. To the Icelyn colony, looking for marriage prospects among their nobles. How could you not know that?”

“Well excuse me, I was busy becoming a Favorite,” Stiles deadpans.

Teacher Finstock shakes his head at Stiles’ apparent idiocy, then quickly composes himself and says in a somber tone, that he sometimes uses, “Okay, now here is some serious piece of advice to you, Stiles. There is no one on this planet that the King is close to, as he is close to Princess Laura. They-,”

“Not even Boyd?” Stiles chimes in. He remembers their interaction with each other and Derek’s fond words. It doesn't feel possible that he can be closer to someone.

“Not even Boyd. Don’t interrupt dammit! Princess Laura is only a year older than King Derek, they are practically twins. They were together since childhood, nobody knows the King like Princess Laura does and to no one he listens more. I’m not saying she controls him- the King answers only to the Gods themselves, but you know how it goes. Once the seed of doubt is planted in one’s mind, it will only grow further.”

Okay. Okay.

Stiles nods. “I understand.”

“Good,” Finstock says. “Lesson over.”

 

~*~

 

It’s not a surprise when Princess Laura asks for him the next day. She has missed much, after all.

Stiles puts on a maroon shirt and black trousers, and his ruby ring on his finger. He never takes it off.

He is escorted to the Royal Wing, where Scott’s room is situated. Every member of the royal family lives there, except for the King. He would be moved here, if he ever gives birth. He would have _royal chambers_.

They come to a white door and a guard opens it. Princess Laura’s room is as big as Scott’s but definitely more feminine, made in light blue, pink colors, flowers nearly on every surface and a big white couch beside a huge window, with an ocean view.

Princess Laura sits on a couch in a beautiful dark blue dress, Princess Cora sitting beside her.

Stiles quickly bows.

“So this is the new Favorite,” Laura says, watching him like a hawk. “Come closer, boy.”

Stiles obeys.

“I thought he would be prettier,” Princess says.

Cora nods. “I know, I said the same thing!”

“Can’t believe he managed to outshine Jennifer. Incredible. Tell me, how you did it, boy?”

What’s up with the _boy_?

“Above everything, King Derek seems to appreciate my mind, Your Highness. Something Jennifer could not give to him,” Stiles answers calmly, eyes downcast.

Cora laughs, while Laura just looks amused. “Ooh, I think I’m starting to get why-,” she cuts off suddenly. “Where did you get that ring?” she asks, her voice hard.

“Um.” Stiles looks at his hand. “The King gave it to me, Your Highness.”

Princess Laura looks at his hand, stony faced.

“What’s wrong?” Princess Cora asks, looking as confused as Stiles feels.

“Derek promised that ring to me,” Laura whispers through clenched teeth.

“Oh,” Cora says.

For a moment Princess Laura looks angry, then forcibly relaxes.

“It’s okay. Derek always liked to play with the new toys more,” she smiles at him, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “You may go.”

Stiles bows and leaves.

That was not good. Oh, Gods, why does this keep happening to him. He looks at his ring. Too much attention it brought to himself already. Nothing is simple in this place, a gift cannot be just a gift, instead everything has too many layers.

The harem is empty, everyone busy with work, so Stiles has no one to talk to. He actually _doesn’t_ have anyone to talk to, except Kira. He doesn’t trust Isaac enough to talk about his problems and there is Erica.

Things started to grow tense with Erica, with each passing day. She did not ‘got over it’, as Isaac promised, and the ring only added fire to the flame.

She began spreading rumors about him, and Stiles one day woke up and found out that once he was fucked by a horse. When he came back from Derek at night, he found ‘HORSEFUCKER’ written on his door.

Each day it was different shit, new ridiculous rumor that became even worse once it’s started circling around.

It also seemed like Erica’s resentment was contagious, because other’s were giving him an eye too. They weren’t openly hostile, but they weren’t nice to him either.

“It’s not personal,” Isaac had said to him.

“It feels like it from where I am standing,” Stiles had snapped back.

Isaac hadn’t even blinked to that. “They just need a scapegoat to all their frustration and boredom with their life. You’re convenient. ”

Stiles got that. He’s not an idiot.

The whole situation is still shitty and unfair.

None of it matters though, as he steps inside Derek’s bedroom. With the two of them, it’s as if the whole world fades away. Derek seems to genuinely like him and he listens to him, when Stiles has something to say. Stiles knows that more than anything, he is amusing to the King, he can see that written on his face. That is enough for now, to him. When Derek is stressed, and now with the rebels getting stronger, he is stressed always, Stiles helps him unwind, any way he can. When you can be the most relaxed with someone, that's how you begin to love them, right?

That evening he has a dinner with the King, a becoming tradition of theirs.

“I met your sister today. Lady Laura,” Stiles mentions, as soon as they start eating.

Derek smiles at the name of his sister. “Did you like her?”

Stiles blinks at the King. He _must know_ that no one on this planet will answer to that truthfully. He knows that, right?

“How could I not, my King? She is as beautiful as you.”

He did not lie. Laura definitely is one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen.

Derek nods, pleased. “We are very close, Laura and I. We spent all our childhood together; I was already six when Scott was born.”

“It must be nice, to be so close with your siblings,” Stiles comments with a smile.

Derek takes a sip of his wine. “Did you have a brother or sister?”

Stiles shakes his head. “My mother had many miscarriages before and after me. I was their miracle child.” He smiles softly to himself, remembering how his parents affectionately called him that. Their little miracle child.

He feels Derek’s hand covering his. “You are definitely a miracle, my alsaar.”

“Okay, so are you sure you don’t want to say the translation of that yet?”

Derek laughs. “Oh no, this is too good.”

“I could just look it up in a book or something,” Stiles says.

“I order you to not to,” Derek says and raises his brow smirking, “and you cannot go against King’s orders.”

“That is _so_ not fair!” Stiles exclaims.

Derek just laughs.

After dinner and a round of sex, Stiles lies on Derek’s chest, his favorite position ever.

“My ring looks good on you,” the King says, lifting Stiles’ hand.

Your ring brings me trouble, Stiles doesn’t say.

“Princess Laura mentioned that you have originally made it for her?” he says cautiously, testing the ground of this conversation.

“I have planned to give it to her, yes. But that was before I knew you. Then I could only think about how lovely it would look on your delicate fingers.”

Stiles blushes. Sometimes, Derek says the most ridiculous things.

“They are not _delicate_ ,” Stiles protests. “They are manly and, uh, rough.”

“Sure,” Derek says, as if he’s agreeing with a child.

Stiles huffs. “We can’t _all_ have your giant sword-trained hands, now can we?”

“Sure.”

Stiles punches the King lightly on the stomach. The King just chuckles and kisses him.

 

~*~

 

His next few days are normal until all of sudden a knock interrupts his reading.

Lady McCall comes in and announces that the Royal Highness, the Queen-Mother, wants to see him.

“ _Now_?” Stiles asks.

Lady McCall just lifts her eyebrow and gets out of the room.

“Okay, okay, right now,” Stiles mutters to himself. His heart is somewhere in his stomach, beating quick and loud.

His thoughts become a mush and he’s confused what he should do first. Okay, the Queen-Mother wants to see him. What should he do? What does this mean, what is happening… Is she angry? Did she like Jennifer more? Can she throw him out?

Oh my Gods. He’s only making himself more nervous.

Calm the fuck down, Stiles angrily orders himself. Think.

He showered not too long ago, so there’s no need to do that. But clothes, he should definitely change clothes, the one that he picked for today are not good enough for the Queen.

Stiles puts on his prettiest shirt, the gold silk one, and regular black pants. He looks good, he thinks. Pretty, but not too much. Elegant and modest.

He opens the door.

“I’m ready.”

 

The Queen-Mother, as it turns out, has two rooms connected to each other, one being her bedroom and the other a lounge room. There are a few ways and passages to get to her, but only a selected few have the right to enter her bedroom, and only the King itself can enter it unannounced. 

Unlike with the King, Lady McCall doesn’t leave him once they reach the doors, but actually comes in with him.

The room that they enter is huge, bigger than any chambers Stiles has ever seen. There’s a writing desk standing in the corner, a huge bookshelf on the opposite wall and a lot of couches lining up next to the huge window. Everything in the room screams _I'm a Queen_ , starting from the mini-tables filled with fruit and down to the dark green and silver walls.

The Queen-Mother herself sits regally right in the middle of the biggest couch.

She’s young, is Stiles’ first thought. She must have been no more than sixteen when she gave birth to her first child, Laura.  Derek and the Princess look a lot like her: the same slightly tanned skin, black hair, green-gray-blue eyes, sharp cheekbones. 

“Your Highness,” Lady McCall drops a curtsy. “Stiles is here as you asked. Anything else I might help you with?”

“No, you may go. Thank you, Melissa,” The Queen-Mother replies smoothly and turns her eyes on Stiles.

Lady McCall curtsies again quickly and leaves.

“Come closer,” the Queen-Mother orders, “let me take a look at my son’s new Favorite.”

Stiles obeys and takes a few steps forward.

“I’ve seen prettier boys and girls,” Queen-Mother observes. “However, we all know that to make someone love you, you need more than just a beauty. You must be very special, Stiles, to enamor my son so completely.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Stiles says and hopes that he sounds sincere. Why does royalty always think that he asked for their opinion?

“The question is, are  _you_ in love with my son, Stiles?” The Queen-Mother asks.

It’s a test.

Of course it is, nothing is simple in this goddamn palace.

Stiles desperately searches for the right words.

“The King is the best man I have ever met, Your Highness. I wish I could make him as happy as he makes me, if he would allow it.”

A silence.

Was it good? Bad?

“Very well,” the Queen-Mother hums. “To be honest, I didn’t believe at first that you would stay for long. Derek had fancies before, all Kings have, nothing unusual there. But then the Favorite status came and he introduced to his friends. I had to realize that maybe, you will be here for a long time. Considering how picky my son is, quite possibly forever.”

Queen-Mother looks at Stiles. Stiles looks somewhere near her shoulder.

“You know what forever means here, don’t you? It’s probably everything you’ve ever wished for: money, gold, leisure. None of the things that slaves have. But it’s also more: greed, apathy, lack of friends, trust and sincerity. Power burns you, if you get too close to it.” She smiles gently. “But do not worry. That’s why I am here.”

Queen-Mother stands up. She takes two steps, till she’s standing so close to Stiles that he can smell her perfume and see every diamond in her earing.

“I see a bright future ahead of you, Stiles, provided that you will show me your loyalty. Obey, don’t get cocky, don’t go against me. The rules are simple, aren’t they?”

Stiles nods.

“Good, good. Now, I think it is time for you to prove your devotion to me and to the crown.” Queen- Mother looks him in the eye. “I need you to make a hole in that damn protection of Derek’s and get pregnant. Can you do that, Stiles?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that!
> 
> Love to hear you thoughts, theories, questions, whatever. Just love hearing from you<3
> 
> If you see a mistake lemme me know!
> 
> New chapter will be sooner than this one Imao


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys! I planned on posting this on Thursday, but real life got in the way. My goal is two chapters in a week, but lately I've been having troubles with that lol.
> 
> Tbh I'm still amazed that you guys like this fic. For so long it has been just mine alone, so having other people invested in too feels amazing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles goes to the harem feeling like he was thrown into the freezing cold ocean, his insides cold and his hands shaking a little.

 _Can you do that?_ The Queen-Mother’s voice haunts him.

_Can you do that?_

Can he betray Derek’s trust like that? Does he have a choice?

The Queen-Mother dismissed him shortly after, saying only “I believe in you” when he walked away.

Getting pregnant with the future king (or a princess) sounds like an excellent idea, but.

Stiles knows that whatever thing he has with Derek, whatever might come, would disappear instantly and would never come back.

The King will never sleep with him again and would probably go back to Jennifer or take a new lover and have a kid with them.

Speaking of Jennifer, that’s probably what she was talking about with Lady McCall that day.

 _He said he will chop off my hands if I touch it_ , that’s what she said.

Derek doesn’t trust anyone with that thing, that’s true. It seems like he has a reason not to.

Stiles enters the harem and is thankful that everyone is at work. No whispers, no gossip, no stares. Finally.

He climbs up the stairs.

“I heard you had a meeting with the Queen-Mother,” he hears Jennifer say.

She stands outside her room, smirking in a purple dress that actually looks quite nice on her. Damn it.

“Did she tell you to do it yet?” she asks gleefully. “She must’ve had, seeing as you are her only chance now.”

Stiles doesn’t reply. He goes to his room and shuts the door, but still hears her cheerful voice, taunting him.

“What will you do, huh, Stiles??”

She cackles and her laugh sounds even louder in an empty harem.

Stiles sits on the couch and looks at the window.

It makes sense that Queen-Mother wants a heir. However, what Stiles doesn’t get, is why Lady McCall is in this too. If Derek has a son, then her own child will never be the King. If Derek has a son, he might kill Scott. What does she gain from this?

“I didn’t know you can afford to daydream, Biles. I thought you had a great conquering plan,” comes a voice from the door.

Finstock smirks when he sees Stiles startled face.

“I wasn’t daydreaming, I was planning,” Stiles answers.

“Sure, sure, darling,” Finstock nods and puts a book on the table. “Let’s get started.”

 

~*~

 

“So, I heard that my mother wanted to see you today,” Derek says during dinner.

Stiles takes a large sip of wine.

“Did it go well?” Derek asks.

“Um, uh-yes,” Stiles replies. “We chatted a bit. She was very beautiful. You look a lot like her.”

Derek doesn’t buy the flattery. “Why are you not looking me in the eyes, Stiles? Did something happen?”

Stiles looks up. Derek raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Nothing happened.” Derek continues looking at him. Sties deflates. “Really. I was a bit intimidated, but everything turned out fine. It’s just- just- seeing your mom kind of reminded me of mine.”

Derek softens a little bit at that and gently kisses Stiles’ knuckles.

Stiles swallows. He can’t believe he just used his dead mother as a distraction.

Fucking Talia Hale.

Stiles takes one more large sip of the wine, puts on his cheerful expression and asks “How was your day?”

Derek lets him pretend that nothing happened.

That night, the King kisses Stiles gently, almost… _lovingly_. It’s not passionate, raw sex that he’s used to. Instead it’s tender and slow and sweet.

Derek looks him in the eye while he rocks above, he looks and looks and looks- and doesn’t look away.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do with that, with all those emotions. There’s a ring on his finger, and Derek slowly moving in and out of him, and a musky smell of sweat and sex in the air. It all feels important to him, the way it never was before.

 _He doesn’t know what to do with that_.

When Derek falls asleep, Stiles looks at him a bit longer. Even asleep the King looks tense, but magnificent and beautiful like always.

He glances at the table with the sex protection on it. He can make a hole in there. He could do it right now, while Derek is asleep, with the tools left lying on the desk. He could-

Stiles leaves the room.

 

~*~

 

The days are getting slightly colder, the wind more frequent occurrence than before, but sun still shines brightly upon them.

Queen Talia sits outside under the pavilion in a gorgeous dark red cloak, her crown covered in rubies, like the ring on Stiles’ finger.

“How are you, my dear?” she asks, her voice soft and maternal.

“I’ve had a pleasure of seeing you today, my Queen. I could not be better,” Stiles replies.

The Queen nods, like he is a student who gave the right answer. Which he is, seeing as those kinds of answers are drilled into them by Finstock.

“I heard that you were with my son again last night,” she says. “Did you do what I asked you to?”

Stiles stays silent for a moment.

“I am sorry, my Lady, but I could not do it. I-,” he swallows, “-I have nothing but respect for you, my Lady, but I am first and foremost loyal subject to the King, as we all are, and going against his wishes will be akin to treason.”

There’s nothing but silence for a few moments.

“I see,” the Queen says coolly. “Of course, you are right, we must all remember our place. Nothing good will happen if we will all do what we want to do.” She jerks her hand. “You may leave.”

Stiles bows.

 

~*~

 

In the evening, Melissa warns him to get ready for the King.

“ _Again_?” he hears a female voice shriek. It’s Erica. “He was _just_ there not too long ago.”

“The King will see him as many times as he wants too, without your permission,” Lady McCall frostily replies.

“You have complaints?” Stiles asks Erica. Everyone in the harem shuts up watching their exchange.

“Of course I have!” Erica glares at him. “Why are we here then, if the King only sees _you_ every night?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did the King ask for you and I got in your way?” Stiles smirks at her. There’s laughter in the room after that.

Erica blushes. “We don’t have an opportunity because of you!” She snaps.

“Don’t blame me on being unwanted,” Stiles says coolly. “When I am clearly not the root of the problem.”

“Fuck you!” Erica spits, her eyes furious.

Stiles opens his mouth to answer, but Lady McCall loudly interrupts them, “Okay! This is _not_ the way concubines of His Majesty should behave.” She looks sternly at them. “Should I throw you into the dungeon to make you remember how to behave?”

Stiles and Erica mumble their no’s.

“Good. Stiles, go get ready. Erica, you and I are going to have _a talk_.”

Stiles bows and goes to the bathroom. Lady McCall just stalled time for their big fight that’s been waiting to happen since day one. It’s inevitable.

He closes his eyes, while someone’s hands wash his hair, his body, his feet.

Suddenly, Stiles realizes that he’s _exhausted_.

Jennifer, Erica, Lord Whittemore, Lord Boyd, Princess Laura, Queen-Mother…

No one likes him, for whatever reason. How come they don’t like him? He understands Jennifer animosity, but everyone else? What did he do to them? Is he so unlikeable? So despicable? 

Sheer blue blouse is thrown onto him, with baggy trousers. Stiles feels like it happens to someone else.

He is escorted to the familiar big door, guards opening it.

Derek’s room welcomes him with bright colors and warmth, as usual, the scent of dinner filling the air. 

The King himself opens his arms for him, smiling, but his expression quickly turns one of concern when he sees Stiles.

“Stiles? My alsaar, what’s wrong with you?” he asks, his voice filled with worry. He carefully takes Stiles’ chin with his fingers.

“Nothing important enough for you to worry about, my King.”

Derek frowns. “I think it is my decision what I should worry about. Now, tell me.” It’s not a request. The King probably hasn’t made a request in his life.

Stiles opens his mouth and feels his throat tighten. Without any warning whatsoever, he starts crying on Derek’s shoulder.

The latter did not expect that to happen, so he stands still for a second, then quickly pulls himself together and tugs Stiles closer with one hand, while the other pets Stiles gently on the head. Stiles can hear Derek whisper comforting nothings in his ear, his voice soothing.

They sit down on the bed, still hugging each other, Stiles sobbing.

He doesn’t know much time has passed by the time he calms down. He’s not shaking anymore, just hiccups a little on Derek’s shirt. The King takes Stiles’ face in his hands, his thumbs wiping the tears tracks off his cheeks.

“Who’s done this to you, Stiles?” He asks, not bothering to hide anger from his voice. “Tell me who did this to you and I will kill them.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, don’t. It doesn’t matter.”

“ _Doesn’t matter?_ You were crying your heart out, alsaar. You were crying as if the sun and the moon stopped shining, and the world has ended. How could it not matter?”

“I don’t-,” Stiles shakes himself off Derek’s hands. “I’m not- this is not- it was nothing that big, really. Just me, getting emotional and silly. My troubles are nothing for you to worry about, my Lord. _I’m_ not that important to worry about. I should not matter.”

“ _Do not_ tell me what I should or should not worry about,” Derek says, standing up, his voice harsh. “What the fuck are you saying, Stiles? Have you forgotten the day I’ve given you that ring? That ring officially announces to everyone that you _are_ _that_ important. That you _matter_ and quite a lot at that. You think your King a fool, making those declarations left and right, without any thought whatsoever?”

Stiles shakes his head lightly, eyes downcast.

“ _Good_. I don’t want to hear you saying these things to me ever again. In fact, I forbid you even thinking them, you understand?” Derek grabs his chin, looking him in the eyes. “You are _important_. Do not forget that. That’s what that ring is for. Now, will you tell me who made you cry?”

Stiles purses his lips. Derek sits beside him, taking one of his hands in his.

“I’m lonely,” Stiles croaks. “Everyone in the harem are jealous of me. They don’t like me. Prince Scott used to be my friend, but now that I’m a Favorite I can’t talk to him. I am constantly surrounded by people and have only one friend. How is that possible? How is that fair?”

Derek looks at him, frustration written on his face. “If I were to take others in bed, would they stop being jealous?” He suggests.

“ _No_!” Stiles yelps. “Don’t- don’t do that. It would not make them nicer, it would only make _me_ more miserable. You are the only other person who I can talk to, who is _mine_ , how can I share you with others?”

His hands shake at the mere thought of _others_ in Derek’s bed. No, none of that.

Derek grins. “ Yours, you say?”

“Yes,” Stiles answers boldly, lifting his chin and looking Derek straight in the eyes. “I am yours and you are mine.”

Derek kisses his hand, the one with the ring. “As you say, Your Highness.”

 

~*~

 

The day after that, a knock comes on his door. Eunuch comes in, “His Highness Prince Scott requested you.”

“What?” Stiles closes the book he was reading. “I’ve been told that I can’t see him anymore.”

Eunuch rolls his eyes. “Well, now you can. Get up, we have to go.”

Bewildered, Stiles obeys and is indeed escorted to Scott’s room.

What the fuck is happening.

The chambers open and happy Scott leaps into his arms, as soon as the door closes behind them.

“Oh my Gods, Stiles! What have you done? What did you say to Derek? Oh my Gods!”

Stiles hugs the Prince back, feeling pretty confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asks. Then adds, “Your Highness.”

Scott grips him by the shoulders, looking like an overjoyed puppy.

“Yesterday Derek permitted for us to meet without a guardian. I don’t know what you had said to him, but he was adamant about that. Made the council and Queen-Mother mad as hell, since it breaks a centuries-long rule. The fight that they all had was epic, but Derek wouldn’t budge, not even a little. At the end, he frightened them all with his ‘I’m the King and you shall all listen to me’ speech, Gods, was he pissed, but they all agreed. It was _amazing_.”

Stiles blinks at Scott, not fully comprehending what he was saying. “Are you telling me that Derek argued with his mother and the council, just so that we both could meet again?” He asks, the words sounding ridiculous when he says them out loud.

The Prince nods his head, smiling widely. “Yes, exactly!”

 _Oh_.

The world mutes itself after that. Scott says something, but Stiles doesn’t hear him.

He can’t believe it. When he cried in the King’s room and complained about his sad life, he didn’t think it would result in anything. Maybe, Derek would make him one more ring, that’s what Stiles thought would happen at most. The King has far more important things to do, than solve concubine’s problem.

He definitely was not expecting for Derek to go against everyone, just to make Stiles happy. That’s --

It’s--

He can’t--

He can't wrap his head around it. This is the _nicest_ thing anybody _ever_ did for him. 

And the King of powerful Lupus Kingdom did it for _him_.

“I should’ve expected that, now that I’m thinking about it,” Scott continues to say. “Derek does wonderful things to those that he loves. Look at me, for example, I’m the first brother in the history of this Kingdom that _lives_. It is no surprise that he would break the rules for you too.”

“I am just a ordinary concubine,” Stiles weakly replies.

The Prince looks at him. “I don’t think you were ever that.”

 

They chat for two hours, before Scott has to go back to his princely duties. Stiles feels happier that he has been for some time and completely invincible.

Jennifer, Erica, Lord Whittemore, Lord Boyd, Princess Laura, Queen-Mother can do anything they want to him and will not succeed because he's got _King_ on his side.

All this time, Stiles thought he was alone, but it turns out he got an ally this entire time.

The mere thought of that makes his heart beat faster.

 _Do not fall in love, do not think he loves you_ , Lydia has said to him.

Well, the King certainly makes that impossible to follow.

 

Stiles knocks on the door.

“Come in,” comes the reply.

Lydia sits behind the desk, books covering it surface, writing something on a roll of paper. She actually has a proper desk, with a chair, like the one they study on in the library with Derek. Stiles has learned that only nobility has those high tables that require a chair, and they are made specifically for studying.

“Hello,” Lydia says. She looks stunning in a green dress, her red hair falling like a waterfall on her shoulders. “To what do I own the pleasure?”

“Har har. Have you heard about,-”

“King Derek breaking a law for you?” Lydia interrupts.

“Yes, that, yes.”

“So,” she lifts her eyebrows, looking curiously at him, “what’s wrong? Are you not happy about that?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I am- I am happy. Perhaps too much,” he mutters. “You told me to avoid love. How do you do that? How do you avoid loving Princess Cora?”

Lydia looks at the window, her fingers twisting a feather. Then turns to Stiles, “I do not. It’s too late for me for that, that’s why I was warning you.”

Stiles stares at her. “ _What_?”

She glares at him. “I never repeat myself.”

“Okay, okay. Just- you were so clear why love is such a bad idea. I thought you were too smart for that.”

“Well, I’m not.” She proudly lifts her chin, daring him to say something. “Perhaps, you could be.”

Stiles sighs. “That’s the problem. I’m not either.”

Lydia raises her eyebrows. “Do not tell me that you’ve fallen in love already.”

“I did not,” Stiles says. “Yet. ”

Lydia smirks. “The Hales make it difficult to keep distance.”

Stiles nods in agreement.

“So, is that all?” Lydia asks, her tone all-business again.

“What is that you’re doing?” Stiles asks, pointing at the mess on the table.

Lydia looks at him for a second, clearly contemplating if he’s worthy enough. Finally, she speaks, “Managing charity.”

He wasn't expecting that. “You have your own _charity foundation_?” Stiles asks, amazed.

Lydia huffs. “It’s obviously not mine, idiot. Slaves cannot have their own charity foundations. Princess Cora opened it and I manage it in her name.”

Stiles looks at the papers. Lydia’s Lupe handwriting is neat, much more beautiful that his own or Derek's, for that matter.

“That is so _cool_ ,” he says, drawing out the last word. “What is that charity for?”

“It provides money for the shelter for poor women, carriers and children,” Lydia replies, sounding casual, but Stiles can see unmistakable pride in her eyes.

“So that’s what Princesses do,” Stiles says in wonder.

“What, you thought they just read books and sleep all the time?”

Stiles fiddles with his sleeve, “Well…”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “The Princess are responsible for the charities in this kingdom, helping the poor. Queen-Mother is responsible for the harem and for the work in the palace. What does Finstock even teach you? Are you studying _at all_?”

Stiles pouts. “I do! I knew what Queen-Mother does, _obviously_ , but Finstock didn’t talk about the Princesses.”

Lydia doesn’t look impressed.

“Can I look at the papers?” Stiles asks tentatively.

Lydia purses her lips and looks at him again, then nods. Stiles smiles and starts reading the papers.

 

~*~

 

That evening, Stiles asks to fetch him the prettiest slutty costume that they got. They get him a bright red, sheer shirt, with flower patterns embroidered on it with glitter and beads, and the pants of the same bright red color.

“Stiles, you look gorgeous!” Kira coos at him.

“Let’s hope the King thinks so too,” Stiles answers.

Lady McCall smiles knowingly at him when he is escorted from the harem.

Derek definitely wasn’t expecting him to look like that. He gawks at Stiles, his eyes huge and hungry.

“I heard from Scott, about what you did,” Stiles says softly, smiling fondly at Derek, putting hands on his chest. “I can’t believe you fought against the council, against _your mother_ , just because of a comment I made.”

Stiles kisses Derek gently on the mouth.

“You are worth it,” the King whispers.

Stiles can feel his heart beat faster.

“I am forever grateful for you, my King,” he says. “I can never repay you for the kindness you show me. I have only myself to give to you: my body, my soul and my heart.”

He kisses Derek again, this time stronger than before, pushes him on the bed and climbs on his lap. Derek puts his hands on Stiles’ hips and starts to make a move to flip them over, but Stiles puts a hand on his shoulder. “No, I want it to be like this. I want to ride you.”

The King licks his lips, his eyes dark with arousal. “Okay. Okay.”

They quickly discard their clothes, pretty red shirt now laying on the floor like an ordinary rag.

Derek leans against the headboard, one hand squeezing Stiles’ ass, the other buried inside it, watching Stiles’ reactions like a hawk.

Stiles moans as the fingers scissor inside him, his cock pressing against Derek’s stomach.

“Does it feel good?” Derek whispers hotly.

Stiles can only moan in return.

“I can’t hear you,” Derek says and sucks Stiles’ nipple.

“Oh yes!” he yelps.

“Then let’s put the thing on.”

They put it on and Stiles oils it, pumping the cock a few times.

“Fuck, Stiles, fucking stop that,” Derek grits out.

Stiles obeys, lifts himself up and slowly sinks down on the cock.

“ _Fuuuck_ ,” he moans.

Derek sucks on his neck, probably leaving large hickeys behind. Stiles squeezes his shoulders, head thrown back, grinding down, rocking his hips slowly up and down.

“Fucking move faster,” Derek commands.

“I will not,” Stiles breathes out.

He lifts himself up, almost all the way out, only the tip staying in, then quickly slams down. They both moan loudly at that.

“Stiles, _oh fuck_ ,” Derek sighs.

Stiles establishes a rhyme, riding the cock with slow, easy strokes, like they have all the time in the world.

It feels like they really could do this forever, but Stiles’ dick has other ideas.

“I need to--Derek, I need to come!” Stiles murmurs.

Derek get’s what Stiles isn’t saying and starts pumping his cock in fast strokes. “Yes, do that, come on…”

Stiles moans loudly and shoots across Derek’s chest.

Pretty soon Derek follows the lead, grunting as he comes.

“That was _incredible_ ,” he pants into Stiles’ mouth and kisses him.

They kiss for some time after that, then have dinner, both famished after sex. They don’t have a repeat performance because Derek has a council meeting in the morning. Before Stiles leaves, the King kisses him and says somberly, “Always remember the meaning behind the ring, my alsaar.”

 

~*~

 

With Scott in his life, the days became much more livelier, even with the weather becoming worse. Kira seems ecstatic too, but Stiles doesn’t know if she’s happy for him or just glad that she can exchange love letters easier.

Derek is busy these days more often than not, so they do not meet as much as they used to. They canceled their translation lessons for the time being, the King too occupied with the rebels for that.

Stiles spending nights in the harem makes everyone more cheerful, especially Erica. She’s careful not to do anything with Lady McCall in sight now, which is a small mercy. However, Lady McCall is a busy woman and is not around much.

Once, Erica stops beside him, while he eats dinner with Kira.

“The King hasn’t seen you for days now. Seems like he’s getting bored,” she says in lieu of greeting.

“Believe or not, he has other duties, besides fucking me. He’s a _king_ ,” Stiles replies.

Erica hums. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she says, clearly dismissing whatever he says. “So, how come you spend so many nights in his chambers, but you’re not pregnant? Are there… _problems_?” she faux-whispers the last word.

Stiles smiles sweetly at her. “Oh, I can tell you _everything_ I do with the King in his chambers, down to every second, but I doubt you will like to hear that.”

Erica pretends she hasn’t heard him. “I’ve never heard of infertile carries, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be one. Wouldn’t be surprised if you turned out to be defective.”

Stiles opens her mouth to reply, but Lady McCall comes in and Erica quickly hurries off.

Kira makes a face at her retreating back. “Gods, she will probably be your constant pain in the ass until you get pregnant.”

Sad thing is, Kira’s right and Stiles feels nauseous about that. He doesn’t know much hatred he can take.

“Well, now you will have more motivation to become pregnant,” Kira chirps, smiling brightly, trying to reassure him.

Stiles smiles in return, thinking he has more of a chance to out wait Erica than him getting pregnant, considering Derek’s trust issues.

 

~*~

 

The next day Lady McCall brings him a fold of clothes.

“The King requested you to wear this, right now. You will be escorted in five minutes,” she says and leaves him.

Stiles looks at the clothes. There are black pants, black boots, grey shirt with high collar, black coat and a grey scarf in the pile. He doesn’t understand why he has to wear specifically these clothes; he has tons of shirts himself.

Whatever. He puts them on and eunuch escorts him to the side of the palace where he hasn’t been before.

Huge iron gates- they are too big to be called a doors- open and Stiles gets inside a carriage and sees Derek.

The King smiles happily at him. “Hello, my alsaar!”

As soon as Stiles sits opposite the King, the carriage moves.

“What is- my King, what is happening?” Stiles asks, feeling confused and a little afraid.

“I realized that although you are a loyal servant to the Moon and Sun Gods, you have never been to the Moon Temple. So I decided to fix that.”

“You are taking me _outside_?” Stiles blinks at him. “To the _Moon_   _Temple_?”

“Do you not want to?” Derek raises his eyebrow, his expression telling him that the answer to this question must always be _yes_. The Kings are never wrong.

“Of course I want to!” Stiles reassures him hotly, feeling excitement welling up in his chest.

He’s going _outside_. Not just any outside, he’s going _out of the palace_.

 _Finally_.

The curtains on the windows are heavily closed, so Stiles can’t see anything, but he can hear people mingling around after they leave palace territory.

Derek smiles fondly at him, but doesn’t comment on Stiles’ enthusiasm.

The carriage finally stops. Stiles wraps a scarf around his head, while Derek puts a hood of his jacket on. One must always cover their head when going to the temple.

Stiles looks around and sees three more carriages, whole Hale family coming out of them, even Lady McCall and Lord Peter.

“We always try to come to the Moon Temple as a family, when we can,” Derek explains.

Queen-Mother comes to them. “I see you brought your Favorite with you,” she comments, her voice indifferent, but eyes cold.

Derek doesn’t reply to that. “Let’s go,” he says and they go inside.

The temple is _huge_ and breathtaking, with huge columns, statues on every corner and giant arcs. Temple workers form a giant line, all bowed down. Stiles has never felt so important.

They enter to a giant round room, with a ceiling showing all phases of the moon and a sun right in the middle. Stiles looks around like a child, not accustomed to this kind of beauty.

They come to a far of wall with a giant statue. It looks like a naked woman, a man and a carrier hold a huge crescent in their arms, and Stiles feels his breath leave him at the sight of it.

Slaves pass them baskets full of fruits and flowers, with one scented candle stuck inside. The candle is providently put in a cup, so that the basket wouldn’t get on fire.

First, the King lights the candle and puts his basket beneath the statue. Then Queen-Mother, then the Prince with Lady McCall, then the Princesses, then Lord Peter and lastly Stiles. Hierarchy is everything in this kingdom, even while giving an offering. By time Stiles put his basket beneath the statue the room starts to smell like oranges. Once Stiles comes to stand with the King, they all close their eyes and make a prayer.

“We have about half an hour, before we need to get back,” Derek announces.

“Wonderful, then let’s go to the park outside the temple!” Princess Laura suggests.

The King nods and they all go.

“Thank you for taking me with you, my Lord,” Stiles says quietly to Derek.

Derek doesn’t answer, just kisses the back of his hand, then Laura comes up to them and starts telling something. Stiles get’s the meaning and goes to Scott.

“How do you like the Moon Temple, Stiles?” Lady McCall asks.

“It’s absolutely magical,” he replies, with genuine awe in his voice.

Lady McCall smiles warmly at him, the glances at the backs of the King and Princess Laura. “Be careful, Stiles. Princess Laura doesn’t like to share and she seems already too jealous of you.”

Stiles nods. The Prince grins at him, “I’m sure Stiles would be fine. He’s smart and pretty, the deadly combination.” Stiles smiles at him.

“Scott, tell Derek he’s wrong! That was definitely a bear we saw that night in the forest!” Princess Laura calls back, as if she heard them.

The Prince throws apologetic smile at him and joins the King and Princess at the front, while Lady McCall says something to Peter down at the back.

They still make a way around a temple to the park. Stiles didn’t think it was actually that big.

“How come Derek can take his Favorite to family outing, but I can’t bring mine? I’ve known Lydia far more than he does Stiles,” he hears Princess Cora whine.

“I didn’t think he would do that either, otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed it,” comes Queen-Mother’s cold reply. “It’s unheard of to take a concubine to the family outing and to the _Moon_   _Temple_ , no less, a sacred place! My wolf has lost his head over the stupid boy.”

“I like Stiles,” Princess Cora says warily. “I just don’t like that the same rules do not apply to him and Derek, as they do to everyone else.”

“Do not worry, my love, soon that won’t be a problem,” Queen-Mother responds, sounding very self assured.

Stiles feels a cold chill go up his spine.

The words sound like a dark prophecy and he’s scared of the future that it forecasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I mostly want to post just so I can hear your theories and predictions. You guys fill my heart with joy, I love you!
> 
> If you see any mistakes pls lemme know!
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos, those are very very much appreciated!
> 
> New chapter coming soon. This time it will be true


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muawahahaha
> 
> All of you are welcome to punch me in the face
> 
> Worked really hard on this chapter. It may not be big, but a lot happens in it. Be prepared

Someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Stiles says and puts the book down.

Slaves put a new chest on the floor. “From a King to his favorite alsaar,” one says.

“Any chance of you saying what alsaar means?” Stiles asks, hope in his voice.

Slaves say ‘no’ in unison.

Stiles sighs. “Okay, thanks.”

They leave and Stiles opens the chest. Every week Stiles receives presents from Derek, including jewelry, clothes and money.

“Great, more shirts,” he mutters.

He puts aside the most colorful one’s in the “burn away” pile, everything else is put in its place in his wardrobe.

He goes back to his reading, when he hears Jennifer’s door open and her leaving.

She is being weird.

She’s quiet, only mocks him from time to time, but aside from that just sits in her room or goes out somewhere from time to time. Stiles finds that incredibly suspicious, considering her creepy nature.

He can’t do shit, can’t retaliate, because she’s not doing anything, anything at all, so he just sits in his room, helpless and frustrated.

Isaac’s favorite thing in the world is to discuss with Kira all the ways Stiles could be murdered and then asking his opinion on them.

Both of them became close, once again, based on that. Stiles has seen them laughing together, but never joined them. Feels too intrusive.

There’s a second knock.

“Come in,” Stiles says cautiously.

“Queen-Mother expects you,” eunuch says.

Oh Gods.

He is escorted, as always, but this time not to her chambers, but to a new place, located in the royal wing.

They come to a stop and guards open the door. The room is too long to be called a ‘room’, instead it looks like a giant hall, the walls filled with paintings and statues. Queen-Mother stands there looking at the landscape, like she has all the time in the world.

She smiles at him, eyes cold.

“Hello, my dear,” she greets.

Stiles bows. “Your Highness.”

“How are you?”

“Better with each second in your presence,” Stiles repeats the line that was drilled into him.

Queen-Mother nods. “Since you’re apparently a part of our family, I’ve decided it’s time to show you this,” she says, gesturing around her.

Stiles frowns. “In my dreams I could not be-,”

“Well, if you’re not, then what reason could there be for you being at the temple?” She raises her eyebrows at him, the same way Derek does.

“I-,”

“Are you by any chance pregnant?”

“No, I-,”

“Then don’t argue with me,” Queen-Mother says coldly, putting an end to their discussion. She turns, “Come.”

Stiles feels like he was slapped.

They go to the very first painting, at the end (or perhaps it is the beginning) of the hall.

“Nobody knows how the First King looked like, but there are theories and this is one of them,” she starts her lecture and gestures to the painting of the intimidating bearded man. “And now this is…”

Queen-Mother tells the explanation behind each painting: who is it, what they did and when. Her voice is even and professional, like she did this a hundred of times.

It’s not always the kings; sometimes it’s the paintings of beautiful landscapes or some person who did something _really_ important for the kingdom. The statues are all impersonation of Gods, because it is considered a sin to make a statue based on real person.

“And now this,” Queen-Mother gestures to the portrait, “is His Majesty King David.”

King David, apparently, was a big muscular hulk of a man, with tan skin, mop of curly black hair, bushy eyebrows, brown eyes and crooked nose.

Stiles can see bits and pieces of him in all his children and smiles. He throws a look at the Queen-Mother’s face and falters when he sees her smiling softly, her eyes warmer than he ever saw them.

He doesn’t know if she loved the King, but she definitely felt _something_.

Her home country Baskaria did not have harems, only legal marriages. Had she adapted easily to the change? Was she jealous of other women? Was she laying in the night crying, knowing that the King is with someone else?

Stiles looks to the left and sees a portrait of Derek.

“And lastly, my wolf,” Queen-Mother announces with pride in her voice. “It was made shortly after his coronation.”

The artist was very talented, because Stiles can feel the same aura from the painting as he gets from Derek in person. Confident, intelligent, arrogant.

“That was very educational, Your Highness,” Stiles says and _what this was for_ hangs unspoken in the air.

“I wanted you to fully understand the history of this dynasty,” Queen-Mother replies, her voice cool and indifferent once again. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that there are no paintings of women or carriers. It’s considered only those who rule the country may be here. When I was young and arrogant, I thought that I could be the first person to break that wall. After all, I was a princess, I gave King David two children, a first-born and an heir, we were happy and he loved me _so_ much, right? Then Melissa came and gave birth to a boy, then Maria got pregnant, then other women came, those not lucky enough to get with child, and I realized that perhaps concubines were not on the paintings because we all would simply not fit. You’re not that naïve, are you, my dear?”

Not knowing what to say, Stiles shakes his head.

Queen-Mother smiles, “Good.” With that she leaves and Stiles is escorted back to the harem.

 

~*~

 

In the evening, Stiles has dinner with Scott in his room.

“So,” Stiles takes a bite of the pork, “something terrifying had happened today.”

“Hmm?” Scott asks him while chewing.

“Queen-Mother took me to see the paintings today-,”

Scott smiles brightly. “Oh, Stiles, that’s amazing! Concubines are not allowed to that room except to clean it. Only Lydia has been there.”

“It was not that great, okay?” Stiles glares at him. “She doesn’t like me and she made that perfectly clear. At first, she snapped at me, then not-so-subtly told me not to feel special because Derek will have other lovers and I’m just one of many.”

Scott looks at him funny. “Well, it _is_ his right as a king. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

“That is _not_ the main problem here, Scott! The _Queen-Mother herself_ hates me and that means a lot of troubles for me, okay?”

“I don’t think she _hates_ you, per say. Strongly doesn’t approve, perhaps?”

Stiles snickers. “What your relationship with her is like? I mean, your mother was her rival for the King David’s attention. Your very existence is a possible threat and a competition for her son. How does Queen-Mother cope with that?”

Scott takes a sip of the juice. While being together, they are not allowed to drink alcohol. One of the rules that allowed their interaction possible.

“Well,” the Prince takes a pause, thinking. “She was never loving to me, like she is with Cora, but she’s civil, polite. Above all, Queen-Mother is practical. If she genuinely thought I was any threat to Derek, she would’ve poisoned me or something. Made an ‘accident’, you know? With my mother she is always respectful, even made her a treasurer of the harem, though typically _others_ are sent away to the Old Palace.”

_Others_. So that’s what happens to the poor parents of the murdered princes.

Scott continues, “Queen-Mother is a princess from birth, she was taught how to behave all her life. If she was ever jealous of any of the women or of my mother, she never showed it and would never do it. That’s not how a lady behaves and all that, you know?”

Stiles nods. That makes sense. Lydia told him to do the same after all.

However, some of the things Scott said to him are clearly filtered through his sweet simple mind.

Queen-Mother _is_ practical, here he was right. That’s why she made Lady McCall her treasurer, her official right hand. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

“How are the rebels?” Stiles asks, changing the subjects.

The Prince tenses slightly at that. It’s a sore subject for everyone these days. “They made a large camp up in the north, guarded as heavily as this palace. Clearly, more money was send to them and we still don’t know who their supporter is or supporters. They haven’t done anything as of late, except bought more weapons. It’s a bad sign.”

It really is.

 

~*~

 

Stiles hasn’t seen the King for a week after the Temple, when he is finally called.

Derek sits in an armchair, with a full glass of wine in his hand. Quite frankly, he looks _bad_. His cheeks are sunken and he’s got huge bags under his eyes- perfect demonstration of a man not sleeping enough. He tugs Stiles on his lap and takes a gulp of wine.

“What does His Majesty require of me tonight?” Stiles asks.

“Just let me look at you,” Derek says, lightly cupping his jaw. “Your beauty calms me.”

Stiles kisses the palm of the King’s hand.

“Did you have any sleep this week?” he gently asks.

“No time for sleep.”

Derek is definitely drunk, now that Stiles looks at him.

“I’m so very sorry for what’s happening,” Stiles whispers. “I wish I could share your burden.”

They hug, Stiles soothingly petting Derek’s back.

“When I find out who their supporter is, I will kill him with my bare hands,” Derek grimly confesses.

Stiles believes him.

He has never seen the King look so _defeated_. It’s a bad look on him and leaves a sour taste in Stiles’ mouth. This is not right, not right at all.

“It might seem like this dark night will last forever, but sun always rises, my King” Stiles puts his most confident voice on. “You are smart, your soldiers are brave and ruthless, your council is wise. Lupus Kingdom will not be defeated by some rats.”

“Do you really believe that?” Derek asks, his voice muffled by Stiles’ shirt. “Or do you say it to me because that’s what Finstock tells you to say?”

So he is aware of that. “I may not know your council or your soldiers, but I do know you. And if there’s one thing that I believe in the most, it is _you_ ,” Stiles reassures him hotly, each word sincere.

Derek doesn’t reply to that, just hugs him tighter, until he eventually falls asleep.

“Okay, no, none of that,” Stiles shakes him. “I can’t carry you.”

Derek wakes up enough to walk, with one hand over Stiles’ shoulder, and immediately falls back asleep, as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Stiles gently cups Derek’s cheek, his stubble tickling his palm.

It is the most vulnerable that Derek has been with him, drunk, unconscious, completely alone in the room with Stiles. The protection lays in a box by his bedside. Anyone can a make a hole in it right now.

Stiles looks at Derek’s face and feels a huge wave of tenderness wash over him. The feeling flows inside him like wine, making his fingers tingle and feel out of breath by the sheer immensity of it.

How can he ever leave Derek? Who will protect him from ambitions of his mother or Laura’s selfish needs?

Stiles leaves a light kiss on Derek’s forehead.

“I’ll always be by your side,” he promises.

~*~

 

Princess Cora calls him to the gardens the next day.

Kira stands behind her among with three other servants, head down, while Lydia stands confidently by her side, looking like the Princess herself.

“Hello, Stiles,” Princess Cora greets him.

“Your Highness,” Stiles bows.

“Let’s walk,” she says. “Stay beside me.”

A moment of silence passes, before Her Highness speaks again.

“My king-brother seems very taken with you. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting him to be _that_ enchanted by you. Tell me, are you a witch?”

Her voice is light, but there’s a strain behind it.

“I’m afraid I’m but a mere concubine, my lady,” Stiles replies.

Cora stops and looks him right in the eyes. “I don’t believe in concubine’s modesty. You don’t get to the top by being humble, so stop with the bullshit. I think you know _exactly_ what you are.”

Stiles feels thrown back by the open confrontation.

“Uh,” he utters.

“You scared him,” Lydia says to the Princess.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Cora replies, looking irritated. “Look, I’m not trying to be your enemy, okay? I just want this to be an honest relationship, without all those subtle hints and double meanings. Hate that crap.”

Stiles smiles. He starts to like her.

“You remind me of Scott,” he says.

“Scott’s innocent, I am not,” she answers, head held high.

“Okay, no bullshit,” Stiles answers. “Then here is the truth: I do not know what the King sees in me or why he took me to the Temple. I did not ask him to do it, my lady.”

Two pair of eyes look at him critically.

Finally, Lydia declares, “I believe him. Stiles is not stupid, he would have known that his presence in the Temple would anger everyone. He’s clearly not suicidal.”

“That makes sense,” Princess Cora nods and they start to walk again. “I heard Mother showed you the hall of fame.”

Hall of fame? Oh, the room with the paintings.

“Yes. It was…memorable.”

Cora laughs. “She scared the shit out of you, didn’t she? Probably gave you a lecture too.”

“She did,” Stiles agrees.

Smiles disappears from her face. “She has some plan for you. I don’t know what it is, but you better be careful,” Cora warns him, face serious.

“Why are you helping me?” Stiles asks, cautious. “She’s your mother, shouldn’t you be on her side?”

“I love her, but I am my own person. Nobody can decide for me how to feel or what to do,” Princess Cora answers.

So, maybe he has more allies than he thought.

After that, they talk about more neutral topics. Cora tells him funny stories about her childhood, some of them including Derek or Laura, but most of all Scott. She’s a year younger than the Prince, so they grew up together, the way Laura and Derek did. Considering the lack of children in the palace, having a sibling is crucial and a brother or a sister becomes your best friend.

Stiles laughs at the stories, sometimes asking questions and absorbs information, hungry for more.

Lydia makes remarks from time to time, but otherwise stays silent.

Two hours pass and it’s the most pleasing pastime Stiles has had in the last month or so. Without Derek his days have a huge hole in them that even Scott can’t fill.

When they finally leave, Lydia grabs Stiles and they walk behind the servants, Cora talking to Kira.

“You idiot, I specifically told you not to make enemies within the royal family and you manage to piss everyone off,” she chastises him.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose, okay?” Stiles hisses back. “I can’t control how they feel.”

“Well congratulations, you just made your life a hundred times harder.”

That pisses him off for some reason. It’s easy to judge from the sidelines and make smart comments. And what does she even know about _hard life_?

“Not harder than being a slave,” Stiles shoots back. “I was not as lucky as some to be raised like a house plant, doted on all my life.”

Lydia seems to be unfazed at all. “I’m just trying to help you, Stiles. Not necessary to get all bitchy on me.”

Stiles flushes. Guilt brims at his stomach, but he’s not going to apologize for his words when they are the truth. “Well, thank you,” he says awkwardly.

Lydia rolls his eyes, not looking offended at all. “It’s good you have teeth. You would need them.”

 

~*~

 

Everything cascades two days later.

Stiles hears suspicious chattering in the harem different from the usual.

He comes down the stairs and sees a group of concubines around someone. He comes closer and notices that it’s Erica, in red off-shoulder top, her stomach exposed and a long skirt, low on her hips.

Slaves flutter around her, adjusting her hair and putting on makeup.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

They all look at him, but don’t stop their job.

Lady McCall answers him, “Queen-Mother has decided that the King needs some relaxation. The rebels tire him; she worries. Erica here was selected for that job.”

Erica smirks at Stiles, not speaking only because lipstick is applied on her lips.

Stiles can’t believe it. Out of everyone, out of forty concubines, _Erica_ is the chosen one? What are the fucking chances?

This can not be a fucking coincidence.

Erica’s makeup is done. She comes close to Stiles, smirking, her eyes sparkling. “Who knows, maybe someone will finally give this dynasty an heir,” she says.

_Oh shit._

Stiles freezes to the floor. “You wouldn’t dare,” he says, voice trembling.

“Watch me,” Erica smiles all teeth.

Stiles watches her go, unable to move or say a word.

 

He blinks and finds his hands shaking.

“Stiles, are you all right?” He hears Kira say and her hand gently guiding him to the pillow.

“Something terrible might happen,” he replies huskily.

“Don’t worry, Stiles. What matters most is that you’re the one who has Derek’s heart,” Kira tries to comfort him.

She thinks I’m jealous, Stiles realizes through a fog in his mind.

“Can you bring me a glass of water?” He whispers.

Kira nods and quickly does that. Stiles takes a sip.

Cool glass feels nice in his hand. He’s numb and burning at the same time.

He doesn’t know how long he sits like that, just staring at the glass of water, when Erica barrels in.

“ _It’s all your fault_!” she screams, her face furious.

“What?” Stiles stands up. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“You’ve done something, aren’t you? You somehow _knew_ and told the King, didn’t you? Or are you a witch, who enchanted our King with your wicked tongue?”

Stiles suddenly realizes what’s happening. “He turned you away, didn’t he? Did you at least go into his room? What’s more humiliating: be turned away before or after he’s seen your face?”

“Shut up!” Erica screeches. “I know it was you! You ruin _everything_!”

Stiles’ face twists in disgust. “I’m not the one who wanted to commit _treason_. I didn’t do _anything_ , but if I tell the King about your intentions, he would hang you, like the traitor you are!”

“Shut up!” She yells and lunges at him.

He averts a fist to his face, catching her hand, but stumbles back. Erica thrashes like a wild animal, trying to free her hand, while the other tears at his shirt. Stiles tugs hard at her arm, trying to stop her, she screams and hits him on the face. He flails his arm and grabs her long hair, tugging hard. Erica cries in pain.

“Don’t touch my hair, you fucker!” she grits out, trying to free herself.

“Scared to lose the prettiest part of you?” Stiles jabs.

She hisses something out, but he can’t hear her.

“What in the name of the Gods is going on?” Lady McCall screams.

Quickly guards take them apart and hold them tight. Both Stiles and Erica pant heavily, their clothes and hair a mess.

“Are you out of your fucking minds?” Lady McCall yells at them, her face angrier than he ever saw. “You are the concubines of His Majesty the King and _this_ is how you behave yourself? I’m so mad at you I can’t even think straight!”

She rubs her nose, eyes heavily shut. “Okay, okay,” Lady McCall says, her voice calm but strained. “This is what we’re gonna do. For now, I’m way to mad to actually see both of your faces, so you’re going to go to bed and tomorrow I’m going to decide what do with you both. Queen-Mother will also have to hear about this and together we will decide on your punishment. Now, _get out of my sight_.”

 

~*~

Stiles wakes up to a woman’s scream of pain.

Terrified, he runs to the door and sees everyone gather around women’s bedroom.

“What’s happened?” Stiles asks and people make a space for him to come forward. Scared, he enters the room.

Erica lays curled inside herself, crying her heart out and Stiles instantly sees the reason for that.

Her beautiful golden hair is gone. The locks lay all around her, so many of them, all over her bed and not on her hair, the way it’s supposed to be.

Lady McCall softly pets her back, sitting beside her, whispering something in her ear.

Erica’s head snaps up and her eyes immediately zero on Stiles.

“ _You_!” She growls in fury, tears flowing down her cheeks. She looks like a male carrier with her hair so short. “It was _you_! I know it was _you_!” She turns to Lady McCall. “It was Stiles, I’m _sure_ it was him! Yesterday he threatened to cut my hair and today it’s gone. Stiles did this, anyone can confirm that. I know he did…” As soon as she finishes the sentence she starts crying again.

All eyes are on him. He looks at Lady McCall.

“Guards!” she commands. The men must have come running as soon as they heard a scream. They come inside the room and bow. “Take Stiles to the dungeons for the trial.”

“No!” Stiles denies, shaking his head. “I didn’t do it, Lady McCall!”

The guards grab him tight around his hands. Lady McCall looks at him, stony faced. “Whenever or not you’ve done it, the trial will decide that.”

“I swear to all the Gods I’m innocent!” Stiles insists.

Everyone’s looking at him like at the wild animal, their eyes wide and scared.

“No, no! I would never do that! I-,” he starts, but then sees Jennifer in a blue dress, standing away from the crowd, smirking at him, and he understands instantly what’s happening.

_It was her_.

That was Jennifer’s long, well-thought-out master plan of eliminating him and it worked exactly as she planned.

She didn’t poison him or pushed him down the stairs.

She just picked the exact right time and framed him for a crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See any mistakes? Lemme know!
> 
> Hope you liked that. 
> 
> LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU GUYS!
> 
> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was…interesting. **Think I should address all issues one by one:**  
>  1\. **I need a beta** , before my mistakes ruin this fic completely. I don’t write this blindly: I re-read what I write a hundred of times, I use every application possible, but I’m only one person. I genuinely didn’t think that there were that many mistakes, that this fic is totally unreadable for you.
> 
> 2. **Lupus Kingdom is not Ottoman Empire. Lupus Kingdom is not Saudi Arabia.** For fuck’s sake, I didn’t even mention at any point that they’re on Earth, just so you guys would not throw countries in my face. I said at the very beginning that this is not historical, so I don’t give a flying fuck what happened in Ottoman Empire or England or India or anywhere else. 
> 
> 3\. I will try to give more insight into the other characters, but there will be no other POV except for Stiles’. He’s probably an unreliable narrator, but that’s because he doesn’t know shit. I try to write him as realistic as possible, considering that he’s alone in another country, with a different language, different rules, different people and mentality. He doesn’t have magic or any special skills; he’s just a person who’s trying to figure it all out. I try too, but I may fail, so do call me on my bullshit.
> 
> 4\. Thank you for still reading this fic, commenting, hypothesizing and criticizing. I’m glad that you care.

The dungeons are just as awful as one expects them to be. His cell is dark and cold, an iron door separates him from the rest of the world and a pile of hay lays in the corner.

Stiles sits on it, hugging his knees in an attempt to warm himself. He’s still in his bedclothes.

He closes his eyes and Erica’s tear-stained face with Jennifer’s smirk are etched to the back of his head.

Poor Erica, her beautiful, beautiful hair is gone, but everything could be much worse, right? At least she’s alive.

As soon as he thinks that, his stomach drops in horrible realization.

 _Erica knows too much_.

She knows all about a make-a-hole-in-the-protection plan and Queen-Mother cannot let run free with all that information.

Gods, Stiles hopes Erica will just be sent somewhere and not…

No, no, he can’t think about that.

Jennifer. He better think about her and not that. He shudders.

It is no coincidence that Queen-Mother picked Erica, out of everyone in the harem.

 _Do not worry, my love, soon that won’t be a problem_ , she had said. From the start she wanted some air-headed concubine to seduce Derek and get pregnant. She gets an heir and lessens Stiles’ position. Two birds with one stone.

That’s when Jennifer comes in. He doesn’t understand why Queen-Mother picked her for help when she has Lady McCall but that's something to think about later. Queen-Mother must have talked to Jennifer and the latter told her all about Erica’s hostility towards him and her genuine desire to be with the King. Erica was the perfect candidate.

She went to the King and whenever or not she'll spend the night doesn’t matter. Jealous Stiles would cut off Erica’s hair as revenge and would be sent away from the harem. Jennifer would be Favorite once again.

What Stiles doesn’t get is why she stopped at the hair? She could’ve slit Erica’s throat and Stiles would have been hanged for that.

After all, Jennifer already pushed the girl off the stairs once. Why stop on something so small?

He shivers. His bare feet are freezing.

Think, Stiles. Thinking distracts you from the place you’re in.

Why didn’t Jennifer do more damage to Erica? Why?

Perhaps, Stiles thinks, because it was impossible to find somebody to do that for her. She's also not going to risk being seen with a bloody knife in the middle of the night, that's just suicide.

She must have paid someone to do the dirty work for her. So Stiles (or the trial) need to find that somebody.

Door locks and swings open. With a torch in his hand, Derek enters the room.

Stiles stands up and bows.

He has never seen this expression on Derek’s face. His eyes are hard, his face blank of any emotion. It’s like a whole other person is standing in front of him.

“Did you do it, Stiles?” Derek asks, voice harsh.

“I would never, my King,” Stiles declares. “I may not have liked Erica, but I would never do that to her or to anybody! You know me! I’m not that person, you have to believe me, Derek. Please.”

“I’m afraid justice system doesn’t work on belief alone, Stiles.”

“But do _you_ trust me?” Stiles asks, heart in his throat. “Do _you_ believe I’m innocent?”

Something passes across Derek’s face. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. I cannot be a fair king when the laws I made are obligatory for some and not for the others. The law is the same for everybody.”

“I understand,” Stiles says, but feels disappointed. “Then I have nothing to fear since I am innocent.”

Derek doesn’t reply to that. He looks at Stiles for a moment, then turns away. “Coat would be sent to you,” he says and leaves.

The door is shut once again.

Stiles sits back on the hay.

He’s scared that nothing would come up and because of the lack of evidence, he would be proven guilty.

He’s going to be sent out of harem, that’s for sure. No one needs a maniac that damages property in the palace. Especially property as expensive and personal as concubines.

After some time, the door opens again and a cloak is given to him. It’s big and warm, but not warm enough to make him completely comfortable.

Stiles curls into himself and tries to sleep.

 

~*~

 

He’s woken up by a door opening again.

A tray of food is put on the floor beside him, but Stiles is not hungry.

He falls back asleep.

 

~*~

The door squeaks. Stiles lifts his head. He doesn’t know how much time has passed. He ate the food that was given to him- sandwich and water- a long time ago. He’s hungry, cold air chills him down to his very bones.

“Well, hello,” Queen-Mother says. She looks absurd in her blue dress in the dungeons, sticking out like a diamond in the mud. “I did not think I would see you here someday.”

“Your plan has failed. Derek didn’t see her, let alone sleep with her,” Stiles answers, deliberately not looking at the queen. He didn’t even stand up to bow, which is the highest form of offense. “So I’m afraid I’m your only chance at having an heir.”

Queen-Mother looks pointedly around her. “Doesn’t seem like you could do much from here, my dear.”

“I’m innocent, I have nothing to fear,” Stiles answers. “You on the other hand…”

“That's _enough_!” Queen-Mother commands, lifting her hand. “I did not come here to be disrespected. Innocent people don’t sit in the dungeons. Seems to me you got exactly what you deserve.”

With a dirty look at him she leaves.

 

~*~

 

Time flies by slowly. He’s brought food that doesn’t quench his hunger. His body got used to daily feedings three times a day and a mere sandwich is not enough for him anymore.

When the silence becomes too much, he recites Vavivian poems at loud. It helps.

 

~*~

 

He dreams of Derek. A lot.

He dreams of the life they could have and has nightmares of what might happen.

Both make him cry.

 

~*~

 

The door opens. Stiles squints his eyes.

“You’re free to go!” The guard says.

Stiles stands up, feeling fragile like a newborn deer, his legs barely working from the cold.

“I’ve been proven innocent or guilty?” Stiles asks.

“My job is to open the door,” the guard impassively replies.

Stiles nods and climbs the twisted stairs. As soon as he opens the door out of the dungeons, Kira hugs him.

“Oh Stiles, I’ve been so worried!” She cries.

That’s when he blacks out.

 

~*~

 

He opens his eyes, disoriented, and feels someone giving him a sponge bath.

He closes his eyes.

 

~*~

 

He wakes up and goes back to sleep numerous times. He doesn’t dream, instead, complete darkness takes him in.

Sometimes, he feels like he’s burning and his head aches like crazy as if someone thumps it with a hammer. The pain comes and goes in waves.

“Stiles, wake up! Come on, honey!”

Stiles opens his eyes and immediately a cup is brought to his lips.

“Good, dear, drink that,” he hears Lady McCall say.

He obeys, even though he has no idea whatsoever what he is drinking. The liquid is warm and bitter, smelling like some herbs. He hopes it’s not a poison.

When he’s done, he lays back and immediately notices that it is not his bed. Or his room.

He looks around. It’s Derek’s room. The King himself is nowhere to be seen, but Lady McCall sits by his side.

“What happened?” Stiles asks, his voice hoarse.

“You got sick in the dungeons. Were out for two days,” Lady McCall answers softly. “Honey, you scared all of us.”

“I didn’t cut Erica’s hair," Stiles weakly protests, remembering the past couple of days. “It wasn’t me.”

Lady McCall shushes him. “No, Stiles, we know. Kira confessed that she saw a female figure standing over Erica at night and then another girl came forward with the same thing. They’re questioning everyone.”

Oh, thank Gods. Stiles can finally relax after the past…however long it's been days. He asks that Lady McCall.

“You were in the dungeons for three days,” she answers.

“It seemed longer down there,” Stiles whispers.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Lady McCall gently runs a hand through his hair, just like his mother did to him once upon a time.

“Why am I in the King’s room?” Comes another important question.

Lady McCall’s eyes sparkle playfully, “The minute you had fainted His Majesty commanded to take you to his chambers. We advised him against it, in case he catches a cold too, but he was unrelenting about it. Slept on a chair at night, like the stubborn fool he is and annoyed Deaton to death with his worry.”

“Where is he now?” Stiles asks.

“Busy with work. He’ll see you in the evening, we already sent him a message.”

Stiles nods and falls back asleep.

 

When he wakes up the second time, the room is lit up by candles and a look at the terrace’s door shows him a night sky.

“You’re awake!” Derek says, sounding incredibly relieved. He comes by the bed and sits beside him, taking Stiles’ arm. “How do you feel, my alsaar?”

“Like I was wrongly accused of a crime,” Stiles answers.

“I knew you would be mad at me,” Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stiles, I knew you didn’t do it, but I can’t show favoritism. The law of this country is for everyone and so is the trial.”

“That’s why you left me there to freeze myself?”

Derek abruptly stands up, tossing Stiles’ hand away. “If you’re going to be a child about this, we have nothing to discuss,” he says, tone harsh and goes to his desk.

Stiles doesn’t call for him or apologize, too angry for that. Some part of him knows Derek is right, but the bigger- lonely, scared- part of him is angry.

“I’m hungry,” he declares.

Derek doesn’t even look up from his papers, “Call for the guards.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him but does as told. The guards come in and he orders food. They leave.

“Why are you mad at _me_?” Stiles finally demands. “I’m the only one who has any right to be mad! I was wrongly accused of something I did not do, sent to the dungeons for three days, completely froze myself, got sick and you’re the one who’s mad? How is that fucking fair?”

Derek slowly stands up and comes to him, with the grace of a wolf. “It seems like you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to, Stiles. For your tone alone I could send you back to the dungeons,” he growls. “I will not tolerate disrespect from my own mother, let alone a concubine.”

Stiles feels like he was thrown into a pile of horse shit.

“Guards!” Derek shouts. The guards come in once again. “Escort Stiles back to the harem. He’s fully recovered.”

The King throws a dark glance at Stiles and goes back to his papers, leaving stunned Stiles behind.

 

~*~

 

Kira assists Stiles the next day, with Cora’s permission.

“My Gods, Stiles, I was so scared for you!” She says. “ Isaac and I quickly realized that it was Jennifer who did it; you are not the one who would do something like that. Erica was taken to Doctor Deaton, ‘cause she grew hysteric over her hair. I don’t really get what the big deal is, after all, it’s just hair, it will grow, but okay. Lord Boyd questioned everyone, but it wasn’t getting anywhere. People were too afraid to tell. Lord Boyd is a _very_ intimidating man, you know?”

Stiles nods, trying to catch up with Kira’s chatter.

“So Isaac and I decided that we need to do something before it becomes too late for you and we did.” She leans into him, whispering the next words, “I lied about seeing someone. I was sleeping like the dead that night- actually I sleep like that every night-,”

“You _what_?” Stiles exclaims in a whisper too, stopping Kira’s babble. “You lied?”

“Oh yeah. Isaac and I concluded that it was someone from the girls’ room because it’s way too risky to get from one room to the next without getting seen. Jennifer wouldn’t have done the dirty work herself too, she’s not an idiot. So I lied that I saw some woman standing over Erica at night. After that, another girl came by and confessed she saw it too, and now there are two witnesses to a crime, proving you’re innocent. Well, technically there’s one since I’m not really-,”

“You lied for me?” Stiles asks, choking up.

Kira smiles brightly. “Of course! That’s what friends are for.”

Stiles blinks fast to stop himself from crying and hugs Kira tight.

“I’m the luckiest person in the world to have a friend like that.”

“I think you should talk to Isaac too,” Kira says. “I know you two have a complicated history, but he tried to help you. That has to mean something, right?”

“Yeah, it does.”

 

He asks for Isaac as soon as he comes back from work.

“Wow, you look _horrible_ ,” are Isaac’s first words to him.

Stiles glares at him. “I forgot how nice you are.”

“Is there a reason you asked for me?”

“Kira told you made a master plan for saving me. That was really nice of you,” Stiles says. “I wasn’t…expecting that.”

“Of course you didn’t, you paranoid asshole,” Isaac rolls his eyes. “I told you from the very start that I’m not against you, it should not be such a surprise for you.”

Stiles throws his arms in the air, annoyed. Every interaction with Isaac leaves him feeling like that at some point. “Well, no one here says exactly what they mean and mean what they say, okay? If anything, I’m not paranoid enough.”

“Oh, cry me a river,” Isaac snaps. “What did you think you were getting into, a fairy tale?”

“You know, I don’t think I like you that much,” Stiles replies, frowning at him.

“Tell that to someone who cares."

Jennifer’s door opens, making both of them jump.

“You have to do something about her before you end up dead,” Isaac whispers heatedly.

“I know, okay?” Stiles covers his face with his hands. “We need to make a plan, poor Erica-,”

 _Erica_! Shit, he forgot about Erica!

“Isaac, _Erica_!” He exclaims. “Erica’s in danger!”

“What?”

“Okay, sit down, sit the fuck down, it’s important, okay?” Isaac does as told, looking extremely suspicious. “What I’m about to tell you is top secret, you understand? It’s really important you stay quiet as a mouse, otherwise, you might end up dead.”

“Are you _crazy_?”

Stiles throws a look at him, signaling how serious he fucking is. “Queen-Mother wants an heir- no wait- let’s start with the King's protection thing,” he licks his lips and tells him all about Queen-Mother's plan to produce an heir. "Now, if Boyd presses on Erica, she can tell him everything and Queen-Mother cannot let that happen, so Erica’s in danger. You see?’”

For the first time ever Stiles sees Isaac speechless. He probably thought Stiles went mad in the dungeons.

He quickly puts himself together. “Think Queen-Mother’s going to kill her?” he asks all business.

Stiles bites his lip. “Probably. Sending her out of the palace is too dangerous. She might talk eventually and that possibility will always hang over Queen-Mother’s head.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a moment, digesting that information.

“We need to somehow get her out of the palace,” Isaac says.

“And quick,” Stiles replies, nodding.

 

~*~

 

Princess Cora and Lydia visit him the next day.

“Why is Derek terrorizing everyone, when you’re safe and well?” Cora asks.

The three of them sit on the couch. Both of the ladies look too out of place in his room, their presence too big for such a small space.

“We had a fight, my Lady,” Stiles answers. He has a slight cardigan on- the worst of his sickness is gone, but the leftover of the disease remains.

“Well, fix things up,” Princess Cora orders, looking quite infuriated. “He’s been intolerable ever since they took you to the dungeons.”

“I hope it didn’t affect his work,” Stiles replies.

“No, just other people’s moods.”

“That was quite an adventure you had, Stiles,” Lydia says to him, changing the subject. “Fight in the harem, the dungeons, a cold and now a fight with the King?”

She says it lightly, but he can see judgment in her beautiful eyes.

Cora laughs. “You do make a life here interesting,” she comments.

Yes, because he was clearly doing just that. Entertaining bored Princesses.

“Again: none of it, except for the fight, was my fault. In fact, I would have preferred to avoid all of it.”

“You need to take care of Jennifer,” Lydia tells him, uninterested in his excuse. “Before she puts a murder on you.”

“I will, I’m not an idiot,” Stiles replies, annoyed.

He itches to tell Lydia about Erica, but he doesn’t know how much he can trust Cora. On one hand, she could be a really huge asset, but on the other, she could also be responsible for Erica’s murder. He’s not going to take his chances.

“Derek was really worried about you, you know?” Princess Cora says softly to him. “I’ve never seen him like this. Whatever you two fought about, fix it, because I see a great future ahead of you. Perhaps even a nephew.”

“Let’s not plan that long ahead.”

Cora talks to him about other things, asking him about the dungeons and telling him the story of some prisoner, but he isn’t listening to her.

Stiles keeps throwing, what he hopes, meaningful glances at Lydia, telling her with her eyes they need to talk privately, hoping she understands. Lydia’s face betrays nothing, so he’s on edge the entire time.

“Oh, Lady Brown will soon come to talk about the school,” Cora says, glancing at the clock.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to stay and talk to Stiles some more, my Lady,” Lydia smoothly replies and Stiles might just kiss her for that.

Cora straightens her skirt. “Okay, but not too long, I would need you.”

The door closes behind her and Lydia looks expectantly at Stiles.

“Do you know about Queen-Mother’s plan to have an heir?” he asks, straight to the point.

“I’ve had my doubts, but nothing definite,” Lydia swiftly replies.

“Well, it’s definite now. Derek has some kind of protection-,”

She waves her hand. “I know all about it, moving on.”

So he tells her everything he told Isaac.

Lydia’s eyes widen and that’s the only thing showing her distress. “You think Erica’s going to get killed.”

“I know it. We must do something, get her out of the palace before it’s too late.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You’ve been here forever, you know more about this place than I do,” Stiles reasons.

Lydia thinks. “Okay, I will try to think of something, but you have to talk to Boyd. Don’t tell him everything, obviously, just make something up that sounds convincing. She needs to be on constant watch before we have a plan.”

Stiles nods.

Lastly, Lydia scolds him, like an angry mother. “And apologize to the King, don’t be an idiot.”

 

~*~

 

He kills two birds with one stone that evening.

Lord Boyd’s chambers and office are located right next to the King’s since he is a Chamberlain and his job is to approve everyone going through the King’s door. Nobody can come in unnoticed. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Stiles knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Lord Boyd says.

He sits behind a huge desk, looking as important as the King himself. His eyes widen slightly, clearly not expecting Stiles to be the one to enter.

Stiles quickly bows. “My Lord.”

“Stiles. May I help you?” His voice is polite and indifferent. Exactly how one should talk to a Favorite.

“Yes, my Lord. I’ve come to talk about the incident in the harem.”

That get’s his full attention. “Go on.”

“The girl, Erica,” Stiles licks his lips, making himself seem meek and cagey. “I’m worried about her. We were friends, once. She always valued her looks and knows that without them she is useless in the harem. I’m afraid what she might do, now that she’s got nothing to lose.”

“Are you talking about suicide? Because her _hair_ is gone?” Boyd is clearly not buying his bullshit.

So Stiles just has to try harder. “Do you know what it’s like, to survive in the harem? No one wants to leave. Everyone’s dream is to sleep with the handsome king and give birth to someone of royal birth. Nobody want’s to be forgotten, like an old toy. What does Erica has to lose now, when her days are numbered? She knows the King won’t be with her, now more than ever. She doesn’t work for the royal family, so there’s literally no reason for her to be in the palace. Yes, she might kill herself just because for her it’s better than leaving this place at all. _Or_ she might go seek revenge and then someone might lose something far more important than their hair.”

Lord Boyd leans back in the chair. “I see your point. I will assign guards to watch over her.”

Stiles nods. “That is a sensible decision, my Lord. Thank you.”

“Did you come here only to talk about your friend, Stiles?”

Now, the hardest part. “Uh. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the King and I had a fight.”

“Oh yes,” Lord Boyd nods, smirking. “I sure as fuck noticed that.”

“Well, I was wondering if you might allow me to apologize to the King,” Stiles says, looking at the Lord through his eyelashes.

Boyd gestures to the door. “The King better be a ray of sunshine tomorrow. Got me, Stiles?”

He nods and bows.

 

The guards come in, to state Stiles’ arrival and he’s scared that Derek will decline him. That he ruined everything they could ever have.

That doesn’t happen, thank Gods, and Stiles is allowed to enter.

Derek looks intimidating. His face’s blank, hands locked behind the back making his shoulders seem wider, first four buttons are undone in his white shirt, revealing a bit of his chest and collarbones.

Stiles bows and doesn’t dare to fully look at the King’s face. He’s scared of want he might see there.

“I came here to apologize, my King. I have never meant any disrespect to His Majesty and as long as I live, I never will. That day, I was my worst self and I’m sorry you had to see it. I learn from my mistakes and swear to you that I will never behave that way ever again. Let the Moon be the witness of my words and curse me if I lied.”

Silence. His heart beats so loudly, he’s scared that it will echo in the room. His hands sweat and shake and he intertwines fingers together, in an attempt to calm down.

Reaching to a decision, Derek finally moves and lifts Stiles’ chin.

His voice is quiet and somber when he speaks. He sounds way older than he is. “I will forgive you anything, but not disrespect, my alsaar. First and furthermost, I am your King and you are my subject. You have to accept that.”

“I am so sorry,” Stiles whispers.

Derek kisses him.

Gods, that feels good. He could have lost that, due to trial or to sickness or to his own foolishness.

They discard their clothes and very soon lie on the bed naked, kissing each other like they need it more than air.

Stiles runs his hands all over Derek’s body, remembering the feel of every scar, every inch of his skin, every curve.

Derek leaves open-mouthed kisses all over him, bites him, sucks hickies one after another after another after another, while Stiles moans and curves his back, wanting more.

Derek’s rough hands flip him over to his knees. There’s a second of nothing- Derek grabs protection and oil- then slippery fingers on his ass.

Derek starts prepping hot kisses on Stiles’ spine, while his fingers stretch him on the inside, making Stiles curl his toes in pleasure. When he finally get’s inside him, Stiles lets out a loud moan, feeling so full and satisfied at that.

Derek’s movements are rough and fast from the start like he thinks someone might stop them any minute. Stiles doesn’t mind it, he rocks back, grunting, blushing, moaning and loving every second of it.

When he comes he almost blacks out, from the intensity of it.

Derek follows soon, maybe a minute or maybe hours after himself.

They don’t speak, while their hot sweaty bodies cool down and their panting gradually turns into regular breathing.

Stiles lays on his side, playing with Derek’s fingers. “Why didn’t you see Erica that day?” he murmurs.

“Why would I need someone else when I have you?”

Stiles doesn’t even bother to hide his pure joy, his smile so big it hurts.

Derek smiles fond little smile at him and tenderly cups his face, his thumbing going back-and-forth on Stiles’ cheek.

“Don’t you dare get sick again,” he grumbles. “That’s a fucking order.”

“As you wish, my King.” Stiles kisses Derek’s palm, feeling happiness bubble in his stomach, flow through his whole body, making him dizzy and limbs heavy.

“Lady McCall told me you weren’t sleeping while I was sick. Were you that worried for me?” Stiles asks.

“Don’t push it.”

Stiles laughs. “If your soldiers knew how sweet you are, they would have mocked you to death.”

Derek covers his eyes with his hand. “Shut up, Stiles. _Gods_ , you’re annoying.”

“Oh no, I know you perfectly well now. You can be grumpy wolf all you want, I know you didn’t sleep in a bed for two nights for me!”

Derek covers himself with a blanket.

Stiles laughs again, feeling light and good, like a summer breeze.

They bicker for some time, Derek pretending to be annoyed and Stiles gently teasing him. Then they kiss- just for the sake of kissing. That doesn’t happen often between them.

Derek leans on the headboard, Stiles’ head resting on his chest. He can hear the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of Derek’s heart just beneath his ear, softly lulling him to sleep, better than any lullaby.

Too bad he can’t sleep here. Soon, it will be time to leave and he feels far too lazy for that.

“The Day of the First King is upon us,” Derek says suddenly.

“Mmm?”

In the Lupus Kingdom, one of the most respected and great kings is the First King, since he founded the country, wrote the first laws and gave a start to the Hale dynasty. That’s why they made a whole holiday in his honor.

“You’ll see your first celebration in the harem,” Derek continues.

“I heard that concubines compete for your attention and at the end, you have to spend the night with the winner,” Stiles notes.

“I might and I might not. Do you have a problem with that, alsaar?”

Stiles doesn’t know how to reply. He carefully picks his words, “I am not familiar with the concept of harems, my King. Royalty that I knew had legal marriages and in those, you should not sleep with other people.”if

“You’re telling me that that’s what happens? And the kings don’t have mistresses and bastards?” Derek says. “Seems like what we have here is much more honest.”

Stiles doesn’t reply. Derek sighs and sits up so he can face him.

“Stiles, my alsaar, it is within my rights as a king to be with however I want to be, if I ever choose to. I want you to know that."

“I know,” Stiles murmurs. “However, it doesn’t stop my heart from hurting.”

“Do not worry needlessly, my alsaar. If you knew how often you occupy my thoughts, you wouldn’t be so sad.”

Stiles musters a smile, but a sick feeling of dread weights on his heart, like an anchor.

 

~*~

 

The following week the preparations for the Day of the First King begin. Finstock and the Princesses are sorting out concubines like flowers from weed, then the lucky ones- the talented ones- are rehearsing in the evenings. The harem get’s cleaned entirely; even Stiles and Jennifer have to contribute, helping everyone else. Stiles expected Jennifer to act disgruntled at that, but it was obviously not her first time so she was surprisingly proficient. The closer the celebration comes, the more excited everyone gets. Harem starts to resemble a hive of bees, always buzzing with activity, chatter, and energy.

Erica is locked in another wing, while the investigation is going. Guards watch her door all day long, and nobody is allowed to enter, except for the King and Lord Boyd.

The night before the big day, the plan is ready.

“I managed to fake an order from Boyd, saying that Erica is permitted to go to the harem for the celebrations,” she says, holding out a scroll.

“How did you manage to do that?” amazed Stiles asks.

Lydia shrugs one shoulder, trying to look casual, but Stiles knows how much she loves being praised.

“I’ve been here for a long time,” she says. “Boyd owes me.”

Stiles can’t imagine what kind of situation has to happen for Lord Boyd to own Lydia, a smart concubine, but a concubine nonetheless. It must be really fucking compromising.

“We get her out of there, dress her as inconspicuous as possible and get her out of the palace through the kitchen door. It will very busy tomorrow, so no one will notice a random girl in the kitchen. We will give her money and from then on, she’s on her own. That’s the most we can to do for her.”

It’s a solid plan; Lydia has done a very good job.

“I have one question,” Stiles says.

“Yes?”

“What does that word mean, ‘in’ something?”

“Inconspicuous. It means unremarkable.”

Stiles nods and repeats the word, memorizing it.

Now, everything’s perfect.

 

~*~

 

The Day of the First King comes. Lessons are canceled, but much work has to be done. Those girls and carriers that have to perform rehearse all day, everyone else goes back to work.

“Today Princess Cora’s and Prince Scott’s harems will come here,” Kira says to him during breakfast, before she leaves to attend the Princess. “It’s going to be so much fun, all of us gathered together!”

She looks very lovely, in a bright red sparkling dress, ruby earrings. A hair clip in the shape of the flower pins her jet black hair.

In fact, everyone is looking their best today- or will at some point. Depends on what the person’s job is.

Stiles can’t appreciate the holiday though, all his thoughts are on Erica. He told Kira and Isaac Lydia’s plan and they all have agreed to leave right in the middle of the celebration in the evening when nobody will notice their absence.

After the breakfast, Stiles helps with the decorations and moves the furniture. A throne is put at end of the harem, and four little chairs surround it. A bunch of pillows is thrown on the side, but the center is empty since it will be a stage.

After his work is done, he takes a shower.

Perhaps, this day would have been exciting for him- or terrible. Derek could pick a new lover today, like many years ago he did Jennifer and the thought leaves an acid aftertaste in his mouth, but Erica worries him more. He must concentrate on her.

He puts on a dark-green sparkling tunic, with sheer sleeves, thin black belt, and black pants. Only jewelry on him is Derek's cursed ring. Simple and elegant.

The only thing he can do is wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek might seem like an asshole, but all will be well! He will show his love too.
> 
> Your kudos and feedback are very much appreciated.
> 
> Next chapter is gonna be in a week, 'cause I'm going to a place that has no Internet.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! 
> 
> This chapter has been beta'd by the absolutely wonderful @moretomhardy. Thank you so much for your help, I don't know what I was doing before without you. 
> 
> **Warning:** something bad happens here. It's not detailed at all, but if you're easily triggered you better look at the end notes.

The celebration has begun.

Girls from other harems have arrived, all dressed-up and happy, blending among the others as if they have been here the entire time.

Musicians play some quirky tune in the background and the tables are full of wine and sweets. Queen-Mother sits in the chair closest to the throne, while the Princesses and the Prince surround her like ducklings. Servants that are not concubines assist everyone, so that the latter could finally rest.

Kira seems genuinely happy, laughing with some girl from Cora’s harem, while Isaac doesn’t even try to hide how anxious he is.

Stiles looks around. Someone from this room might sleep with Derek tonight. Someone from this room might one day bear him a child.

“All rise for His Majesty King Derek!” a guard’s loud voice announces.

The music stops playing and complete silence falls.

Derek strides confidently into the room.

“Mother,” he pecks Queen-Mother on the cheek and sits on the throne. All activity in the room resumes as he waves his hand.

Stiles looks at him and finds Derek staring right back. The King gestures for him to come, which Stiles quickly obeys.

“My King,” he bows. “Queen-Mother.”

“My alsaar, how do you like the celebration?” Derek asks. Stiles doesn’t miss Queen-Mother’s frown at the endearment.

“I’ve never seen anything like it, Your Majesty. It’s amazing.”

Derek smiles. “I’m glad. Here, come sit by my side.” He gestures to the pillow beside the throne, right at his feet. It’s not supposed to be there, so that means Derek ordered someone to put it there specifically for Stiles.

He sits, with Princess Cora and Princess Laura staring at him in disbelief.

I know how you feel, Stiles thinks. He wasn’t expecting that to happen, either.

He’s happy to be given such an honor- only members of the royal family can sit at the center of the room- but it makes his task to sneak away unnoticed harder.

He would have to make up an excuse.

“I picked so many talented concubines for you to choose from tonight, Your Majesty!” Laura cheerfully says. “The best of the best.”

“We’ll see,” Derek dryly replies.

Princess Laura’s smile falters slightly at that, but she quickly starts to chirp something to a bored-looking Cora.

“What was _that_?” Stiles asks Derek quietly.

“We had a… _slight disagreement_ while you were in the dungeons,” Derek replies, taking a sip of his wine.

Stiles looks for clarification at Scott, but the latter just shrugs.

What could make Derek mad at his favorite sister?

Derek starts discussing something with Scott, while Queen-Mother tells something to her daughters. Any other time, Stiles would have been bored, but right now he’s too anxious about Erica.

It doesn’t help that Kira and Lydia will not come with them. Stiles’ absence alone might draw attention, but the disappearance of all the Favorites would be highly suspicious.

Finally, Finstock comes to the center and claps his hands loudly. “May I have your attention, please!” Once everyone falls silent, he continues, “We’ve gathered here today to celebrate the Great First King and to honor his many great accomplishments! Today we will celebrate with wine, music and, most importantly, talent. We all know that talent is the Gods’ gift to us, a way to be closer to Them, and we shall honor it in the best ways tonight. May our celebration begin! May King Derek’s rule be the most magnificent one of all!”

Everyone claps and the music starts playing again.

Six concubines, three girls and three carriers, come up to the center and begin to dance. They are way better than Stiles has ever been, their hips swaying gracefully to the sexy rhythm, their movements fluid and elegant. At first, their dance is synchronized but at the end each person has their own solo.

They all have this seductive, calculating look on their faces: sexy half-smiles, coy looks from under their eyelashes, cautious and interested barely-there glances at Derek’s face, like they just can’t help but sneak a look.

Derek doesn’t look amused.

After the dancers, there’s a girl with a violin, after her, a carrier with fire tricks.

It’s during that time Stiles decides it’s time to go.

“If you’ll excuse me, my King, but Lady McCall has asked me to come to the kitchens,” Stiles says.

Derek nods, while Scott throws a questioning look that Stiles ignores.

He leaves the harem and waits for Isaac in a dark corner.

“Let’s do this,” Isaac mutters.

It wasn’t hard to know where they kept Erica; it was never a secret to begin with.

They climb the stairs and finally reach the needed corridor when Stiles sees them -- Two men, guards, lying unconscious near the door.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Isaac mutters, running straight to the room.

Stiles checks the pulse on one of the guards- it’s beating- and hears Isaac whimper. The door was left open by whoever came here. Stiles steps inside and wishes he hadn’t.

Erica’s bare feet dangle in the air, a few inches above the ground, her face blue and very dead.

They are too late.

Isaac cries on the floor, face in his hands, his whole body shaking.

Stiles slowly sinks beside him. He licks his lips and his voice trembles when he speaks, “I’m so sorry, Isaac. I’m _so_ sorry.”

“I can’t believe they killed her,” Isaac sobs. “She didn’t hurt anyone, she was innocent, she would have been quiet…”

“I know, I know,” Stiles says and hesitantly puts a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, not sure if his touch would be welcome.

Isaac doesn’t seem to notice it, mumbling, “She would have been quiet, she would have been quiet,” over and over again.

Stiles feels like he’s ten again, when foreign soldiers killed his parents in front of him, turning his world upside down, leaving him helpless and afraid.

“Isaac, we must leave,” he forces himself to say.

“ _What_ ?” Isaac looks at him, his face red and wet from tears, “We can’t- we can’t _leave_ her like this!”

“I know,” Stiles whispers, “but we _have to_.”

“We must at least send someone here. People can’t drink and sing and laugh, _while Erica hangs in this room_.”

“I know that it’s horrible, Isaac, but there is no possible explanation for us being in this room. We can’t subtly fetch someone, without it being suspicious.” Stiles takes a deep breath, taking Isaac’s hand in his. “We must leave and for the whole day, we must pretend that nothing happened. They will probably find her body this evening and tomorrow we will grieve and cry all we want, all _you_ want, but for now, we must pretend that everything’s all right. You know that.”

Isaac nods and Stiles gently wipes the tears off his cheeks. “I promise you, Queen-Mother will _pay_ for this. She will _not_ get away with this murder, not while I’m here and alive. This is officially war.”

~*~

When Stiles comes back to the harem, two girls perform a belly dance.

He hopes he looks normal and that no one will notice anything amidst the performance, but of course Derek isn’t that easy to fool.

“My alsaar, what happened?”

Stiles quickly blinks and tries to put on his cheerful smile. “Nothing.”

Derek frowns in concern. “You look white as a sheet. It doesn’t look like ‘ _nothing_ ’.”

From the corner of his eye Stiles notices that Queen-Mother throws an annoyed glance at them. Well, _fuck her_.

“How can I look happy when tonight you will be with another?” Stiles asks boldly, lifting his chin.

Derek instantly closes off. He looks back at the dance and mutters through gritted teeth, “We are _not_ having this conversation here.”

The rest of the evening goes by as a blur. He feels numb, the image of Erica’s dead body playing in his head over and over again. His clothes feel too tight, the music too loud, the wine too bitter. He wants to scream.

Finally, the biggest event of the evening comes.

The air in the room is heavy with anticipation, like everyone’s holding their breath at the same time. Those who performed gather at the center, with hope on their faces.

Derek stands up.

“Today we honor the First King, the greatest king in history and the founder of the Lupus Kingdom. However, I think that even he did not have a harem as awe-inspiring as this. Today, you showed me that inside each one of you there’s a little piece of magic, that makes you closer to the Gods Themselves.”

The concubines look pleased with themselves, looking at Derek with pure adoration on their faces, as if he is made of the sun itself.

“I know that your main goal for today was this handkerchief,” he waves it, “and my undivided attention. You had one but I cannot give you the other.” Derek pockets the handkerchief. “On this great day, your job is to make your King proud, and I can safely say that I am, of all of you. I am happy to have you in my harem! May you all continue to shine!”

The concubines look heartbroken, as if the sky has fallen on them. Derek waves his hand and all the activity resumes.

Stiles doesn’t understand what has happened. He stands up.

“What was that?” he asks, completely dumbfounded. “You didn’t pick anyone. Was there no one to your liking, my King?”

Derek huffs. “Of course there was, everyone in this harem is chosen specifically to my taste. I didn’t pick anyone because it made you miserable. I cannot be happy while you are sad, my alsaar.”

He says it all so matter-of-fact, as if Stiles is the stupid one.

“No, no, this doesn’t make any sense-,” he starts to say and then notices something over Derek’s shoulder.

A girl, one of the ones that had arrived with Stiles, is talking to someone, looking lovely in a nice yellow dress with a beautiful butterfly pin on her chest.

It would have been just a piece of jewelry like all the others, if something about it didn’t seem _off_ to Stiles.

“Derek,” he mutters quietly. “Look at that girl in the yellow dress. Does that pin look familiar to you?”

Derek turns around and frowns. “That is my pin. I made it for Jennifer, how the fuck did she get that? Did she steal it? We need to call for the guards.”

“No, Derek, wait,” Stiles quickly grabs Derek’s arm. “I can explain everything to you, but we need to keep quiet. Tomorrow, make Boyd search everyone’s stuff and arrest the girl. Today, let them think everything’s all right.”

Derek scowls, confused and angry about it. He’s obviously not used to being uninformed about something.  “We will leave _right now_ and you will tell me _everything_.”

He quickly bids goodnight to his family.

“My King brother, you didn’t pick anyone today. Were the concubines I chose for you not good enough?” Laura asks, looking very upset.

“They were wonderful,” Derek answers and doesn’t say anything else. A king is not required to offer explanations for his actions, unless they concern the law.  Frankly, it’s an asshole move to his sister. Stiles doubts that he pulls it often, judging by Laura’s wounded look.

“My wolf, is something wrong? You didn’t pick anyone today and you are leaving too early. Are you sick?” Queen-Mother asks, concerned.

Derek smiles softly. “I’m tired, that’s all. Do not worry, Mother.”

He kisses her and his sisters on the cheeks, hugs Scott, then grabs Stiles and storms out of the room.

Everyone bows.

 

“ _Explain_.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. This day is starting to feel like too much for him. Erica, Derek’s unexpected actions, the pin. It’s too much all at once but the king is not someone you can say ‘no’ to.

Stiles starts telling him everything from the beginning about his feud with Erica and Jennifer, careful not to mention Queen-Mother.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” Derek asks, after Stiles finishes talking.

“You have far more important things to do than to resolve your harem’s conflicts.”

“True, but it _is_ my mother’s job.”

Stiles doesn’t reply.

“Why didn’t you want me to arrest the girl today?” Derek inquires.

Because your mother would have protected Jennifer and herself, Stiles thinks, but says, “It would have ruined the celebration. The concubines deserve to have a ‘no drama day’.”

“Tomorrow I’ll have Boyd arrest the girl and Jennifer with her. She will not be a problem for you any longer,” Derek promises solemnly.

“What will happen to her?”

“She will get flogged, then sent out of the harem.”

Stiles nods, lazily playing with his ring.

“You do not look happy,” Derek points out, sounding confused.

“Because I still don’t _understand_ you! I thought I did but-” Stiles sputters, frustrated. “You tell me that the law is for everyone, how you can’t just _do_ something without it being justified, then break the rules by putting me in the center with your family, where slaves aren’t allowed to sit _ever_ . You give me this _ring_ ,” he waves his hand, “telling me I matter, then plan to sleep with someone else and then _do not actually do it_. It’s like I’m constantly being thrown from side to side- I don’t understand you, I can’t figure what’s the ultimate truth in all of this and whether you know it yourself!”

Derek doesn’t even blink. “Of course I know what’s the truth, Stiles. All of it is. The law _is_ the same for everyone. The law, which includes important matters, like murder or treason. Not made-up etiquette rules on where to _sit_ , for fuck’s sake.”

“Some might say that breaking the harem rules might lead to further, more serious damage.” Stiles doesn’t even know why he is arguing with Derek on this, when he actually agrees with him.

“Please,” the King scoffs. “I know you don’t believe that, so stop being difficult.”

Stiles nearly chokes, he’s so offended. “ _I am not being difficult_ ! I’m just trying to _understand_ you. Like what the hell happened today in the harem?”

“Stiles, when did I actually tell you that I would pick someone tonight?” Derek patiently asks.

Stiles instantly opens his mouth to reply and stops.

_“I might and I might not. Do you have a problem with that, alsaar?”_

_“Stiles, my alsaar, it is within my rights as a king to be with whoever I want to be, if I ever choose to. I want you to know that."_

“We-ell,” he starts to say, drawing his words, “you heavily _implied_ it.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Really? Implied it? Next, are you going to get upset over something I conveyed with my eyes, Stiles?”

Stiles flushes with embarrassment. “You didn’t say _no_ to me either.”

“So you’ve thought that I will _actually_ do something that will hurt you, my alsaar?”

“You are a King, as you like to remind me.”

Derek shakes his head, looking at Stiles fondly.

“What if I’m never going to be okay with you being with the others?” Stiles asks the ultimate question.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Only the Gods Themselves know what will happen in the future. We only have the present, and it should be enough.”

 

They don’t have sex. Stiles is far too exhausted, and Derek is not in the mood either. When Stiles comes down, the floor of the harem is covered in gold coins, girls from other harems still in the room along with everyone else excitedly picking them up, with the royal family nowhere in sight. Stiles goes directly to his room.

The darkness of his room feels heavenly, like someone threw a giant blanket over him to hide him from the entire world.

He doesn’t brush his teeth, just puts his night clothes on and falls on the bed.

He’s tired, so, so tired, but he can’t sleep. His head keeps buzzing with thoughts, with images of Erica’s dead body and the butterfly pin. Poor Isaac. Stiles didn’t like Erica, in fact, she made his life twice as difficult in the harem as it could have been, but she was still a _person_ . _A human-being_. She didn’t deserve to be killed without a second thought just because Queen-Mother screwed-up.

It’s wrong. All of it is just so wrong.

Was Queen-Mother always this heartless or did Lupus Palace make her like this? Will he be like that too, in the future?

Stiles closes his eyes with his hands, pressing on the eyelids, forcing the image of Erica’s body to disappear.

~*~

He falls asleep somewhere around four in the morning, but is quickly woken up by noises from the outside.

He opens the door and is greeted by the chaos.

Concubines in their bedclothes come out of their bedrooms, looking worried and afraid, while guards walk around the harem.

Lord Boyd comes up the stairs with Lady McCall in tow.

“Good morning, Stiles,” he says politely, then turns to the guards. “Search the room and if you do not find it, search the whole harem, if necessary.”

Guards go inside the rooms, with Lady McCall in the girls’ room and Lord Boyd in the carriers’. Pretty soon, one guard comes out of the girls’ bedroom with a pin in his hand, while a second one grabs a girl. “I found it, sire,” the first one says and presents the pin.

“Here is the girl, sire,” the second guard says.

Boyd looks at her coldly. “Take her to the dungeons,” he commands, and the girl, who looked at the verge of the tears before, instantly starts crying. He turns to a stunned Jennifer. “I’m afraid, Jennifer, that you will have to come with me.”

“What, why?” She demands. “You don’t have a right.”

Stiles is fascinated by her ability to always act like she is of royal birth.

Lord Boyd smiles his polite, tight-lipped smile. “I have all the rights I need.” The guards grab Jennifer and she starts to thrash in their arms like a wild animal.

“How dare you, I am the King’s Favorite!” she growls. “Do not touch me!”

They don’t pay any attention to her, probably used to that kind of behavior from everyone.

Lord Boyd bows to Lady McCall, nods to Stiles and leaves the room.

Once the door closes behind him, everyone starts to shower Lady McCall with questions.

“Silence!” She commands. “Lord Boyd seems to have found the real culprit behind the unfortunate accident with Erica’s hair. He thinks it might be Jennifer and the girl she had paid, but until he questions them we will not know.”

The concubines begin to talk again.

“Girls, carriers, _enough_!” Lady McCall demands sternly. “You are the concubines of His Majesty the King, not a flock of crows!”

Everyone bows their heads in shame and obedience. Lady McCall straightens her back and in a quiet, serious voice continues, “I have more news for you, and I’m afraid it is bad, too. Our dear Erica passed away this night. It appears to be a suicide.” She looks at Isaac and says softly to him, “Erica’s belongings are yours now. King Derek will pay for her funeral. I’m _so sorry_ for your loss, Isaac.”

Isaac nods. He looks _bad:_  huge dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, pale skin, blank gaze.

Everyone quickly offers his or her condolences, hugging him.

Stiles looks at Kira and notes that she doesn’t look surprised. Isaac must have told her and Lydia everything yesterday.

Stiles too comes up to him, when everyone’s gone. “ _I’m so sorry_ , Isaac. It’s my fault.”

Isaac looks incredulously at him. “How is that your fault, Stiles? Queen-Mother killed her, we both know that.”

“Yes, but if I-”

“Gods, not everything’s about you, Stiles, grow the fuck up,” Isaac snaps and goes to the bedroom.

“He’s right, you know,” Kira says from behind him.

Stiles sighs, feeling like an asshole. “I’m going to sleep,” he says and does just that.

 

He wakes up sometime during lunch time, not rested at all. In fact, he thinks he feels worse, but he can’t afford to sleep any longer, not when so much is happening.

He washes, changes into regular clothing and eats lunch as breakfast. Once he’s done, he looks in the mirror, takes a deep breath and goes straight to the Queen-Mother’s room.

Only family can visit each other without permission within the royal family. Stiles thinks people were killed for less than what he’s doing.

“Tell Queen-Mother that Stiles is here and it is within her interest to see me immediately,” he says to the guards, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

The guard announces him then comes back. “She says you can come in.”

Queen-Mother sits regally in the same spot as she was sitting the last time, only this time with a cup of tea in her hand. Sunlight reflects in her crown, making her shine a little.

“Leave,” she commands to the servants. Once they are alone she speaks again, “It seems like you’ve forgotten everything Finstock taught you. This is the highest form of disrespect in the harem.”

“I know, and this is why I came. I do not respect you, my Lady,” Stiles answers. “I have no respect for murderers.”

Queen-Mother puts the tea on the table beside her. “So that’s how it is now,” she says calmly. It’s the kind of calm that comes before the storm.

Stiles will not be intimidated by it. He’s not a summer breeze either. “I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice when you murdered Erica. She was a naive girl caught in the web of your ambition and you killed her for your own mistake. How can you be so cruel?”

“You’re right, she was naive,” Queen-Mother says coldly. “That’s what happens to people like her in here. The palace is not a place for fools.”

“They took Jennifer today. Aren’t you afraid that she will talk? Or is she dead right now too?”

Queen-Mother smirks. “Jennifer is a smart girl. She knows that if she says anything, it means she’ll get charged for treason.”

“What about me? What aren’t I dead yet, then?”

“Without Erica and Jennifer, it’s your word against mine. It’s good enough for me.”

Stiles looks carefully at her. “No, that is not it. It’s—you’re afraid, aren’t you?” Queen-Mother’s face is a blank mask, but Stiles knows he hit the nerve. “I’m a Favorite, if I suddenly fall dead, it would be highly suspicious. And considering how picky Derek is, you will not have a grandson in the next ten years. I’m your only chance.”

He grins, proud of himself.

“Are you done posturing like a child?” Queen-Mother says flatly. “Or should I send for a guard?”

“No, I’m done,” Stiles replies, feeling his confidence grow. “However, before I go, I must say this: I will never forgive you for Erica. She was young and stupid, but she did not deserve to die like this. Someday, somehow, you will pay for this murder, I will make _sure_ of it.”

He leaves before Queen-Mother can respond. It’s nice to have a last word.

~*~

Lydia comes to him an hour later. She looks as beautiful as always, but there’s more makeup on her face than usual, particularly under her eyes. A barely-there difference that tells Stiles all he needs to know.

“Isaac went to the sun temple, to cremate the body,” Stiles tells her. She nods.

“We were close,” Lydia says.

“We were,” Stiles nods.

“But we were not fast enough.”

“No, unfortunately, we were not.”

Lydia falls silent, lost in her thoughts.

“I didn’t think Queen-Mother would actually kill her during the Day of the First King,” she says.

“Your plan was great. What happened wasn’t your fault,” Stiles assures her earnestly.

“Do you say that to yourself too?” Lydia’s eyes analyze him, as if looking straight into his soul. “It wasn’t your fault either, Stiles.”

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, in and out. “I can see her, behind my eyelids, each time I close my eyes. Her feet, dangling right above the floor, just—it was awful, Lydia. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

“ _Good_.” She takes his hand and squeezes it. “You must never forget that, Stiles. That day, that moment, it must stay with you forever, or this palace will take your heart too. With time, it will get harder and harder to know which side you are on, so let that moment pull you back to your conscience and remind you who you are.”

Stiles nods.

“You should see Jennifer,” Lydia says. “Who knows how many secrets she holds.”

“Can I, though? Isn’t she under arrest?”

“I told you, Boyd owes me a favor. We can still use it.”

 

Walking down the stair of the dungeons, Stiles feels goosebumps crawl up his spine. He remembers the three days that he was there like a nightmare, all that cold and fear and hunger. He never wanted to come back, but it seems like the Gods have other plans.

Stiles takes a torch and comes inside the cell. Jennifer is still in her bedclothes, just like he was, and is a wearing a heavy cloak to warm herself. She manages to look regal even in this dark depressing setting. It must be a talent.

“Came to gloat?” she asks, raising one eyebrow.

“No,” Stiles answers.

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“Do you know that she killed Erica?” Stiles asks. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jennifer was in it too, somehow. It didn’t make sense, but he has to be sure.

“I assumed she would,” comes the calm reply.

“Aren’t you scared that Queen-Mother will kill you too? Before you have a chance to talk?”

“If I talk I’m dead anyway, at least she will offer me a quicker death. Though she most probably won’t hurt me, it’s within both of our best interests.”

“So this is it?” Stiles asks, tone dry. “You will just calmly accept whatever comes your way from that woman? Be her obedient slave like you have been these past five years?”

Jennifer is instantly on her feet. “Shut the fuck up, you don’t know _anything_ ! I had a _plan_ . If I had that fucking baby the old bitch would have been sent away to the Old Palace faster than lightning.” She looks at Stiles in disgust. “I hate you _so much_. I hope one day she’ll kill you too.”

Good talk. He could always count on Jennifer being honest.

She suddenly smiles, all teeth. “Oh wait, no, that’ll be too easy for you. This isn’t even me hoping, this is me _knowing_ what will happen to you: one day, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, but _one day_ , someone younger and smarter and more beautiful than you will come and _destroy everything that you have._ It’s inevitable. Consider it a prophecy.”

Stiles looks her square in the eyes. “All the most beautiful people from all around the world can scream his name and he will only hear my whisper.”

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” Jennifer sneers. “I was his only Favorite for five years and look what happened.”

“I’m not you,” Stiles replies grimly and leaves the cell.

When he comes back, Lydia is sitting on his couch reading some book.

“Did she tell you anything?” she asks, but her voice is even, disinterested.

Stiles shrugs. “Nothing of importance. She doesn’t know anything and if she did, she wouldn’t tell me.”

He is so glad to get away from that place. May he never set foot in there ever again.

“You already knew that, didn’t you?” Stiles looks at Lydia.

“You needed closure,” she calmly replies.

“Well, I sure as fuck got something,” Stiles mutters. “Did Isaac come back yet?”

Lydia shakes her head.

“I hope he will not do anything stupid out of grief,” Stiles says.

Lydia doesn’t reply, going back to her book. She’s obviously not planning on leaving, which Stiles doesn’t mind. They both don’t want to be alone right now.

~*~

Stiles sits on the couch on Derek’s huge balcony. The air is cool, so a blanket is thrown over him and he has a glass of wine in his hand, to warm him up. He looks at the bright orange sunset, the deep blue of the ocean, the grayish Capital in the distance. It’s a view he has become very familiar with and isn’t that a nice thing to say? To be familiar with the view from the King’s balcony.

Derek’s comes out of his room and kisses Stiles on the cheek. He’s wearing a leather coat that hugs all his muscles just _right_. Nothing looks bad on this man.

“My alsaar. I’m very sorry about that girl, Erica.”

Stiles nods. “It’s horrible.”

Derek hugs him by the shoulders and Stiles buries his face in the King’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat, leather, and Derek.

They don’t talk for a while, staying like they are, hugging each other.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your mood, my King. We can now do whatever you like,” Stiles says.

“You don’t have to pretend to be happy when you’re sad, Stiles,” Derek replies, cradling his face. “You’re dear to me in every mood.”

“When I was angry I didn’t seem that dear to you.”

“For one, you were being disrespectful, and secondly, I didn’t turn away from you even then. My father would have sent you out of the harem if you were talking to him that way.”

“You’re not very fond of your father, are you?”

Derek looks away. “He was not a bad man, but his heart belonged on the battlefield, not in the palace. When he was here, he was distant and impatient, bad-tempered. I never saw him as happy as when it was time for him to leave for battle once again.”

“I’m sorry he didn’t love you as you deserved,” Stiles says gently.

Derek shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“You have me now,” Stiles says boldly, looking straight into those beautiful blue-green-gray eyes, “and I don’t think there’s a single part of me that doesn’t belong to you completely.”

They are both very careful not to say the L word, knowing how much it would mean in their case, and this is the closest Stiles has ever gotten to saying it. Derek smiles at him, looking completely smitten.

“Yes, I have you,” he agrees, voice unbearably fond. “My biggest treasure.”

“I don’t think I’m in the mood to have sex tonight, but can we just lay in the bed, together?” Stiles timidly asks.

Derek kisses him. “Of course, my alsaar.”

They sit on the balcony a little longer, until the sun disappears beneath the city.

Afterwards, they lay on the bed, Stiles held tight to Derek’s chest. He’s warm and relaxed from the wine and the fresh air, and Derek’s scent and heartbeat lulls him to sleep.

Just a little nap, Stiles thinks, closing his eyes. A tiny little nap.

He wakes up early in the morning, the sky still dark outside, Derek’s big hands holding Stiles close to him.

Shit, shit, shit, he thinks. He fell asleep on the King’s bed and slept there all night, taboo number one.

Stiles begins to gently get out of the King’s clutches, careful not to wake him.

“Stay,” suddenly comes Derek’s commanding voice.

Stiles freezes. Is he talking in his sleep?

“Stiles, lie down and sleep. I order you to stay,” Derek says without opening his eyes and hugs Stiles closer.

 _Holy shit_.

A warm feeling flows through Stiles. Derek wants him to stay in his bed. That is the closest _he_ came to saying the L word.

Holy shit.

~*~

Without Jennifer, the harem becomes much livelier and people seem much lighter than before. It’s as if the witch has been defeated and the dark spell has been lifted, like in the fairy tales.

It’s awful, but without Erica, harem feels nicer to Stiles too. No more rumors and death glares and name-calling. He dreamt of this day, but he didn’t want death to be the ultimate solution.

Stiles is late to breakfast, as he spent all morning in the King’s bed, so he sees Isaac during lunch. He sits by their table, with huge bags under his eyes, hair looking like he ran a hand over his curls a hundred times.

“I have burned her body along with her clothes. She would have loved the pyre, it was huge, as if she was some noble lady or something,” Isaac smirks.

“May she rest with the stars now,” Kira solemnly replies.

“The justice will come, Isaac,” Stiles promises.

Isaac nods. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “I can’t talk about this anymore. It’s everything I _think_ about, I can’t _talk_ about it too. Let’s change the subject. Stiles, I heard you spent the whole night and the whole morning in the King’s bedroom.”

Stiles is not quite comfortable gossiping while someone is experiencing so much grief, but if that’s what Isaac wants, he can try.

“Yes, I did. The King allowed me to stay with him in his bed the whole night long.”

Isaac raises his eyebrows. “That is huge, Stiles, you know that, right? Have you confessed your love for each other yet?”

Stiles blushes a little. It’s too intimate. “No, not yet. Soon, maybe.”

Kira smiles. “That’s amazing, Stiles! I’m so happy for you! First that rule with Scott, then he sits you at the center with his family, and now _this_! He’s obviously completely in-love with you.”

Stiles shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing to see, just get pregnant already, Gods.”

“I don’t think either of us are ready to become parents right now. With the rebels and all, the timing is not right either.”

“Exactly!” Isaac points a fork at him. “With the rebels, it’s too dangerous for the King not to have an heir. Who knows when it’ll be time for him to join the battlefield?”

Stiles frowns. “Don’t say that. Everything will be all right; the King has strong and loyal soldiers in the north, there would be no reason for him to go there as well.”

“I don’t know, the Prince seems pretty agitated these days. I don’t think everything’s going so well over there,” Kira cuts in.

“I’m afraid that they will throw a revolution and take Derek’s throne. All of us would be dead then,” Isaac says.

“No one would dare to do such a thing!” Stiles snaps. “A rat is no match for a lion.”

“More like a wolf,” Isaac comments, smirking.

“Lupus Kingdom has existed for a thousand years and will continue to exist for a thousand years more, and Derek’s rule is going to be the most magnificent of them all. His fame would pass the First King’s, mark my words, and I will be there, right by his side, till the very end.”

Kira and Isaac look surprised, and Stiles doesn’t know if it’s by his confidence, ambition or loyalty.

“Good luck,” Isaac finally replies. “I cannot wait to see how it all will turn out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Erica is found dead, hanged in her room. 
> 
>  
> 
> Feels good to be back! Missed me? I sure did miss you guys!
> 
> Also, the line about the scream and the whisper is taken directly from the show. It's basically the whole reason I wrote this fic Imao.  
> I should also point out that the show is quite different. It has the same drama, but the conflicts are different. So basically watching the show will give you nothing


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I know I've been gone for a long time and this chapter is smaller than usual, so oops? Do not worry though, this fic is always on my mind ( _always_ ) and I would never abandon it.
> 
> You might have noticed that I put the exact number of how many chapters are left, which means that this story is slowly but surely coming to its end. I was thinking of doing a series but realized that it'll be the same plot all over again, so there's no point. Everything I want to share with you, will be done here, once and for all.
> 
> Once again, very huge thanks to @moretomhardy. Damn, you're as efficient as the Lupus palace Imao.
> 
> P.S. Noora looks like Lucy Hale in my mind

 

No one can fault the palace for being inefficient, that’s for sure. Jennifer is sent out of the harem as soon as her wounds heal enough for her to move, along with the other girl. Stiles can’t believe that she’s finally gone and it’s not some ploy on behalf of Queen-Mother. He has a few nightmares where she comes back and kills him, and in the morning he checks her room, making sure she’s gone for good.

Almost immediately Deaton brings two new girls to the harem. They’re young and pretty little things, wide-eyed and enthusiastic. One is a red-head, with a long freckled face, the other one has a square jaw and dark green eyes.

At some point during Lady McCall’s introduction speech, they both look up at him, while he stands at the top of the stairs. Stiles has a vivid flashback to his first day, when he saw Jennifer standing in the exact same place. He smiles at them and waves, hoping he looks friendly and not like a massive bitch.

Isaac comes up to stand beside him. “Not afraid of competition?” he asks.

“Please,” Stiles scoffs.

“Perhaps you should be,” Isaac replies. “You can never be one hundred percent sure about anything in this palace.”

“I know that,” Stiles answers, not liking the condescension, “but I got bigger things to worry about.”

“Oh yes, your huge plan on taking over the world. Always forget about that, how’s it going?”

Stiles scowls. “Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”

“You might need a back-up plan in case the rebels take the Capitol,” Isaac reminds him.

“They won’t get that far,” Stiles replies, feeling unsettled.

“Denial is not a good look on you,” Isaac chastises.

“Go and fuck yourself.”

Isaac just laughs.

~*~

It turns out when Stiles doesn’t have to worry about being stabbed in his sleep or deal with Erica’s bullshit, he has quite a lot of free time.

He doesn’t know how to fill it usefully at first, but then remembers Lydia and knows instantly what he has to do.

“My King,” he says, when they are having dinner.

Derek looks up. “You need something.” It’s not a question.

“Uh, yes.” Stiles plays with rice on his plate. “I was wondering—I mean I—I want to--”

“Spit it out, Stiles.”

“I have a lot of free time and I was wondering if maybe I could help with charities, help with the transactions,” Stiles blurts out quickly, then adds, “Do something useful.”

Derek nods, smiling. “Of course you can, my alsaar. Tomorrow talk to Uncle Peter about it, he will tell you what to do.”

“Doesn’t Princess Laura manage the charities?” Stiles hesitantly asks.

“You will talk to Peter,” Derek firmly repeats and that’s that.

It seems like he’s still mad at Princess Laura. Stiles wonders what she could have done to make Derek so angry with her.

Maybe Lydia will know. She knows everything.

Stiles doesn’t bring up Laura anymore.

They eat and talk, then have slow, gentle sex and Stiles falls asleep in Derek’s arms.

He can do that now - fall asleep on Derek’s bed. A simple notion, but one that means a world.

Judging by the look on Derek’s face, when he wakes up next to Stiles, he is happy with his choices too.

~*~

Stiles is glad that he will see Lord Peter instead of Princess Laura, if he’s being honest with himself. Lord Peter is shady, but at least the man doesn’t have a reason to actively hate him.

Lord’s Peter’s business room is quite small but beautifully decorated, in the same colors as Queen-Mother’s room. The man himself stands up and beams at the sight of Stiles.

“If it isn’t Derek’s alsaar!” he exclaims. “How wonderful of you to come visit me!”

“It’s a business meeting,” Stiles replies dryly.

“I know, I know,” Lord Peter waves his hand. “Charity, Derek said. Normally my dear niece takes care of that, but do not worry, I know quite a bit too.”

Stiles smiles weakly. “I am glad.”

“I, like you, do not have a legal right to make my own charity foundation, which is why I donate. There’s this wonderful shelter and school for orphans where I usually send my money, you can take a look at that sometime.”

What Stiles really wants is to help with organizing and accounts and stuff like that, but he’s not going to mention it to Lord Peter.

“I would love to,” Stiles answers instead. “Would you mind if I take a look at your paperwork? I would like to get better acquainted with the transactions.”

Lord Peter’s smile wavers slightly, almost too quick for Stiles to notice. A barely there expression, but Stiles was a slave his whole life. He knows how to pick up on people’s expressions better than anyone.

“Of course, my dear, no problem,” Lord Peter cheerfully replies and takes a huge bundle of papers from his shelf, depositing them directly into Stiles’ arms.

“Wha--,” Stiles starts to say, when a knock on the door interrupts him.

“Sorry, my dear, but that is a representative from the shelter and I have to talk to him, I’m sure you understand. Plus, we’re done here, these are the papers you have requested.”

“Okay, sure, thank you,” Stile says, but Lord Peter doesn’t listen to him, shouting, “Come in,” to the guest.

A man with a heavy black beard and blue eyes comes in. Gods, kids must be scared shitless of him.

Stiles bows to Lord Peter, throws a quick glance at the guest and leaves.

He looks at the bundle. That’s a lot of papers Lord Peter gave him. It will take a lot of time to get through them.

Stiles doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the day. The food is brought directly to him and Kira’s attempt to talk is politely declined.

The papers are… _ something _ . They’re important but complicated.  _ Unnecessary _ complicated. Stiles has looked through Lydia’s papers and they weren’t like that. It seems like Lord Peter made what could’ve been something simple overly complex. The sentences, the transactions, the numbers- they all make Stiles’ head hurt and he doesn’t think all of it is accidental.

Lord Peter wanted to make anyone who reads these papers either give up on reading them or wreck their brain trying to.

A knock on the door interrupts Stiles’ thoughts.

“The King wishes to see you,” a eunuch tells him.

“Tell the King that I’m too tired and send him my sincerest apologies,” Stiles replies.

The eunuch blinks at him. “You want me to what?” He asks incredulously.

“You heard me,” Stiles replies, not lifting his head from the papers. When the eunuch doesn’t leave, Stiles looks up, “What are you waiting for?  _ Go _ .”

The eunuch frowns, but turns to leave. “It seems like you’ve grown too bold, Stiles. If one day the King beheads you, I would not be surprised.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. The eunuch shuts the door.

He spends all night on the papers, until he gets all the way to the last one. At the end, Stiles’ brain is barely working from the exhaustion and the sheer amount of numbers, but he can safely say that something is definitely wrong.

Lord Peter is hiding something.

~*~

The next evening, once he gets enough sleep, he sees the King.

As soon as he steps through the door, Derek is on him, inspecting every part of him, fretting like a mother over her child.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asks.

“Is everything okay? You refused to come yesterday. I was worried something may have happened to you,” Derek replies, looking worried.

Guilt instantly washes over Stiles along with other emotions, one he doesn’t want to name.

“Don’t worry, I was just tired,” Stiles smiles softly, kissing Derek’s palm.

“It was the first time you refused my call,” Derek says.

“I am sorry,” Stiles says and kisses him.

He never gets tired of this. Kissing Derek is one of his favorite things to do, along with eating and reading books in Vavivian. Derek’s soft lips, the taste of him, his scent, his big, strong hands, all of it make Stiles dizzy and breathless, constantly craving for more, more,  _ more _ .

“It seemed like someone missed me,” Derek grins.

“I always miss you,” Stiles replies.

Derek kisses him again. “Let’s eat, while the dinner is still hot,” he says and leads Stiles to the table.

Which reminds Stiles of another thing he has to do.

“My King—I mean, Derek,” he hastily adds, “yesterday I talked to Lord Peter and he told me about this wonderful shelter he’s donating to. I was wondering if I could see it myself and perhaps talk to the people who manage this place and find a way to help them.”

He holds his breath. If he was anyone else, it would have been an ordinary request, but he’s a concubine and not a regular one- he’s a Favorite. He can only leave the palace with the King himself.

Derek looks at him, clearly thinking the same thing. He doesn’t have the time to accompany Stiles to the shelter and no else can do that job.

“Please, Derek,” Stiles begs, “please, please, please. It would mean so much to me,  _ please _ -”

“Okay, fine,” Derek sighs. Stiles beams. “But you should take the guards and someone who can look after you.”

“How about Cora?” Stiles asks.

Derek nods. “Good, Cora is fine. You have to be as quick as possible and extremely discreet, you understand?”

Stiles nods, smiling. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret it!”

“Famous last words,” Derek mutters.

~*~

The next day Stiles puts on his black silk shirt, dark trousers, and a dark cloak. He leaves the harem once everyone’s on a job, so no can see him leaving.

Cora waits for him in the carriage, looking beautiful and elegant in a dark green cloak.

Stiles bows and smiles at her. “Wonderful to see you, Your Highness.”

She nods. “You seem to wrap my brother around your little finger, Stiles.” She doesn’t sound mad, thank Gods. There’s a twinkle in her eyes and her tone is light, teasing. “Which makes me wonder if the feeling is mutual. Are you in love with my brother, the same way he’s obviously in love with you?”

Stiles cheeks redden. “I--,” he fumbles, “I, uh- um, it’s--”

“Okay, you can stop making those noises,” Cora says. “I can see it on your face.”

Stiles closes his mouth, relieved.

Cora smirks. “That’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Thank you,” Stiles mumbles, feeling embarrassed.

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Charity, huh?” Cora asks. “It was Lydia who gave you the idea, right?”

“In a way, yes,” Stiles replies, grateful for the change of topic. “I want to be helpful in any way I can, while I have the time and resources.”

“How noble,” Cora drawls, not looking impressed, but not exactly mocking him either.

Stiles doesn’t say anything to that.

~*~

The wooden gates open and a servant helps Stiles to come out of the carriage.

A group of people bow down, with a man with a silver beard in the front.

“We are delighted and honored by the visit of Her Highness Princess Cora and His Majesty’s Favorite,” the man says formally, his voice unexpectedly deep.

Cora waves her hand and everybody stands upright. “What is your name?” She asks the man.

“I am George Black, the head of this shelter,” the man- George Black- replies.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Black,” Princess Cora replies, all grace and polite manners. “My uncle Lord Peter told us wonderful things about this place, so we came to see it for ourselves.’

“We are forever grateful to our Lord, may he live a long and happy life,” Sir Black answers. “It will be our honor to show you our humble shelter.”

Princess Cora walks beside Sir Black, while he tells them everything about the place. They are brought first to the school, the classes empty as the kids have a break. Then they come to the lunchroom, and then to the courtyard. Boys, all ages, bow down, the toys lying at their sides.

“Long live the King!” they shout in unison. “Long live the Princess!”

Princess Cora goes further with Sir Black and as soon as she goes out of sight, the boys go back to playing and the courtyard is filled with child laughter.

Stiles looks at them, strangely mesmerized by these kids.

“Hello,” a tiny voice says somewhere text to him.

Stiles look down and a boy approximately six years old looks at him.

Stiles smiles. “Hello.”

“Are you the King?” the boy asks, his eyes big and curious.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Stiles replies. The boy instantly looks disappointed, so Stiles can’t help but add, “I am his close friend though.”

The boy’s eyes light up once again. “You know _the_ _King_?” he asks excitedly, his voice awed.

Stiles nods. “I do.”

“What is he like?”

“He’s very smart, handsome and a great fighter,” Stiles replies. “The best King in the world!”

The boy looks at him in wonder.

“I’m afraid I have to go,” Stiles says, looking at the door where Cora disappeared. “But I will tell the King all about you, okay?”

The boy beams at him and nods.

Stiles waves his hands. “Bye-bye!” he says and goes after Cora.

He finds her talking to a woman, with Sir Black beside her.

“I absolutely love this place!” Stiles says to him.

Sir Black smiles, his eyes kind. “I am very happy to hear that.”

“Lord Peter told me wonderful things about it. Your representative came just as we were discussing it, as if--”

Sir Black frowns. “What representative?” he asks, confused.

“Uh, a big man with a black beard and blue eyes,” Stiles answers.

“We didn’t send any representatives to Lord Peter during this month,” Sir Black says. “And even if we had, we have no man looking like that working here. You must be mistaken.”

“It seems like I confused him with someone else, my apologies,” Stiles says, feeling his stomach tighten in fear.

What the fuck is going on?

~*~

He thinks about it all day. Those over-complicated transactions, the strange representative, Lord Peter’s face when Stiles asked for the papers… Something fishy is going on.

He remembers Scott’s words about the rich supporter of the rebels. Someone who holds all the reins. Lord Peter can’t be….or can he?

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice anyone sitting right beside him at the table during the dinner.

“Hi!” a happy voice chirps.

Stiles looks up and sees a smiling new girl, the one with the square jaw.

Kira is nowhere to be seen, probably too busy with Princess Cora or Scott.

“You are Stiles, right?” the girl asks, her green eyes sparkling. “His Majesty’s Favorite.”

“Um, yes, that’s me,” Stiles replies, not knowing where this is going.

“I heard so much about you! They say you became a Favorite within the first week since you arrived, enchanting the King completely. I also heard- oh wait, where’s my manners. I never introduced myself, I’m Noora!”

Stiles’ head swims a little from her fast speech, but he manages to smile. “Nice to meet you, Noora. You probably shouldn’t believe everything you hear around here.”

“That’s why I had to talk to you!” Noora says excitedly. “You can never trust gossip, especially the talk about you, that’s the strangest of them all! Some people paint you as a saint and some as a sinner; it’s hard to know which one is true. Is it true that you’ve fucked a horse once?”

Oh Gods. Stiles closes his eyes. Erica’s legacy continues to live on. She would have been so happy about it.

Noora keeps talking. She is obnoxious and loud, but not a bad person, all in all. She’s sixteen, was raised all her life by some noble lady for the harem in a big house somewhere far in the east. Her life was quiet and secluded;, boring in her words, safe in Stiles’. She didn’t face any hardships in her life like Stiles did, which shows in the way she talks and acts. Typical slaves are far more reserved.

She wants to be with the King, but will be happy to serve anyone in the Royal family. Her wish is to stay in the palace, the way she was trained all her life.

“I heard you worked for the Prince for some time too,” Noora says. “Is he as handsome as the King?”

“They don’t look alike, but both are very good-looking in their own way,” Stiles replies. He feels old and rusty compared to this girl, even though he’s barely five years older than her. “All members of the Royal family are extremely beautiful.”

“Of course they are, they came from the wolves,” Noora replies as a matter-of-fact. Stiles rolls his eyes.

Among the people there’s a legend how a long time ago, a wolf and a woman fell in love and produced a child that became half-human, half- a beast. It is believed that the Hales came from that line and as a result have phenomenal eyesight, enhanced hearing and super strength. Stiles thinks the legend is ridiculous, while Scott absolutely loves it and Derek is greatly amused by it.

“Anyway,” Stiles says, not wanting to argue with Noora’s logic, “life here is not hard, but can be complicated. In the palace, you have to think twice before you say something and a hundred times before you do something. One can never be too careful.”

“You’re so smart!” Noora exclaims, looking at him with open admiration. “Now wonder the King loves you. Thank you so much!”

Stiles smiles. “You’re welcome.”

Afterwards, Isaac comes up to him.

“What was that?” He asks.

“I gave some advice to the new girl,” Stiles replies.

“Why are you helping your competition?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Believe me, she’s  _ not _ my competition. Derek wouldn’t stand her for a minute.”

“He doesn’t have to talk to her. As far as I know, baby making does not require much talking.”

Stiles frowns. “Why are you so antagonistic towards her? What’s your problem?”

Isaac stares at him. “It’s called being  _ rational _ . You’re too trusting.”

“Well,  _ you’re _ too paranoid.”

Isaac purses his lips. “You know what? When shit falls on you, I will be right here to say ‘I told you so’.”

Stiles sighs, feeling like an asshole. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Isaac shrugs, clearly still angry.

“I know you’re just trying to protect me. I appreciate that and won’t ever forget it.” Stiles smiles a little. “When I conquer the world, I will make sure that you will be rewarded for all your help. How about that for a plan?”

Isaac smiles back. “Sounds about right.”

Stiles relaxes, relieved that their fight is over. He can’t afford to lose his friends in a place full of enemies. Which reminds him of his speculations about Derek’s uncle.

“I think something’s wrong with Lord Peter,” Stiles whispers to Isaac and tells him everything that’s been going on so far.

Isaac doesn’t look convinced. “That’s a very big accusation, Stiles. This is not some harem girl, it’s the King’s uncle we’re talking about.”

“I know that! You have to agree that all of it is just too weird to ignore.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Isaac replies solemnly. “I’m saying you have to have more evidence and you have to get it discretely.”

“Easier said than done,” Stiles mutters darkly and goes back to his room.

~*~

When Stiles goes to see Derek the next evening, a guest is already there.

Derek's eyes light up when the door opens. “Stiles! Come in, I would like to introduce you to Joy the Bard.”

Stiles bows.

“Oh, none of that. I’m just a loyal slave to the King, like yourself,” the man says.

He’s in his thirties, tall and slim, with a beard and kind brown eyes, with laugh lines around them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the person who holds our King’s heart,” Joy the Bard says.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Stiles replies, smiling. “Is your name really Joy?”

“Does it really matter?”

“I guess not.”

“I asked Joy to join us for dinner,” Derek says to Stiles, as if he could object.

Very soon, Stiles falls in love with Joy. The man is hilarious and charismatic, telling them stories about what happened to him in different cities or within the Capital itself. Stiles laughs so hard his stomach aches and his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Derek obviously likes the man, but more often than not he looks at Stiles, with this soft, quiet adoration on his face. Stiles’ heart swells up each time this look is thrown his way.

The easy, happy atmosphere is ruined, however, when Joy says to Derek, “Your Majesty, I would like to smoke right now, perhaps you may join me,” and they go to the terrace.

They stand there talking to each other in quiet voices, expressions serious, while Stiles waits inside.

He’s not an idiot, he knows what’s happening. Joy is probably telling the King all the information he has on the north and the rebels. No ordinary bard just happens to know the King, even the most talented one.

Plus, Joy stopped smoking a while ago. Derek’s expression gets stonier by the second.

Eventually, Stiles falls asleep on Derek’s bed and after whoever-knows-how-much time he hears footsteps in the bedroom.

“I am sad that I could not bring you any good news, my King,” he hears Joy say.

“Your job would be to spread the good news when I defeat those bastards,” Derek replies.

“It seems to me that is not the only good news that I will spread, my Lord,” judging by the voice, Joy grins. “You seem very taken with your Favorite, sire.”

“Stiles is the light of my life,” Derek says, voice steady, resolute. “I can not say for now, but after the rebels, most likely you will send good news of  _ other _ importance.”

Stiles’ heart gallops in his chest. Was that….?

The men say their goodbyes and soon the door closes after Joy.

Stiles hears Derek call for a servant to change into his nightclothes and soon he joins Stiles in bed.

Strong arms hug him from behind and Derek’s stubble nuzzles into Stiles’ neck.

There’s a strange feeling inside Stiles, as he lays there in Derek’s embrace with the memory of those words. He feels as if a ball of light fills his entire body, his skin too thin to contain that amount of emotions. He wants to cry and laugh, to dance and to fly, but instead shuts his eyes tightly and melts into Derek’s embrace, letting himself be lulled to sleep.

~*~

“Lord Peter wishes to see you,” a servant tells Stiles the next day.

Fuck, he thinks.

They go to the same place, Lord Peter’s office. A servant closes the door behind themselves, leaving Stiles alone with the King’s uncle.

Lord Peter smiles, standing up from the desk. “My dear, how wonderful to see you again!”

Stiles bows. “My Lord.”

“I heard the most interesting thing yesterday. Someone told me that you’ve visited my shelter.”

Stiles bleakly smiles, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. “You were telling me such wonderful things about it that I just couldn’t resist seeing it for myself.”

“Ah,” Lord Peter says. “I heard you left the palace in the company of my niece, Princess Cora. Without the King.”

The tone of his voice is casual, but there’s something dangerous behind his blue eyes.

“The King was busy,” Stiles replies, hoping his voice won’t waver. “So Princess Cora decided to accompany me.”

“I see,” Lord Peter says. “Leaving the palace without the King, it seems the times have changed.”

Stiles doesn’t reply.

“So, how did you like the shelter?”

“It was wonderful, m’lord. I am glad that such places exist in this city. Those poor boys need a place like that,” Stiles replies, voicing his honest opinion.

“I am happy you liked the place so much. Did my papers help you with anything?”

“Uh, yes, thank you.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind giving them back,” Lord Peter says, still with the same smile on his face.

“Of course,” Stiles replies and looks him in the eyes.

He knows, right in that moment, that Lord Peter  _ is _ behind the rebels.

And that he figured out that Stiles knows that too.

The silence seems endless for Stiles, but it must have been no more than a few seconds before Lord Peter says, “Great. Now, I must return to my duties,” and returns to his desk.

Stiles leaves the room with shaking hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ILY<3


End file.
